Miscreants and Murderers
by King Caspian the Seafarer
Summary: Golden Age Mystery. Corin wants excitement and adventure; Peter wants an alliance with Galma; Susan wishes her suitors would sprout wings and fly away; the mysterious murderer seems to want them all dead; and Edmund...well, Edmund just wants a nap.
1. A Rude Awakening

**Miscreants and Murderers**

by King Caspian the Seafarer

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia, or any of the characters, places, or anything else therein.

A/N: This fic is dedicated to my younger brother, who is frighteningly like Corin, and also to everyone who wishes there were more fics out there about Edmund having a younger brother. Like Corin. ;)

Note: I'm also posting this first chapter on **May 6th**, which happens to be the birthday of my good friend Queen Su! Happy Birthday, Su! Sorry VDT isn't coming out on the 7th anymore! *sigh*

To everyone else, yes, this is the long awaited Miscreants and Murderers I've been working on for ages! Tis a tale of the Golden Age, mostly from King Edmund's point of view. I shall be posting new chapters every Friday and Monday (or I'm planning to, anyway). Please enjoy, and please, _please_ review!!!

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_--Chapter 1: A Rude Awakening--_

In the fresh, Narnian summer air, a young man reclined against an apple tree, his eyes closed in sleep. His dark hair was tangled, and a thin silver crown peeked out from behind his thick locks. A bee buzzed busily by the young man. The sleepy summer afternoon was as peaceful as any.

_THUMP._

A strange noise marred the perfection of the silent afternoon. The young man shifted ever so slightly in his sleep, but otherwise ignored the interruption.

_THUMP._

He groaned, and then rolled over, away from the annoying noise.

----------------------------------------------------

_THUMP!_

"Ouch!"

I jerked awake with a cry as a small, hard object struck the top of my head. Rubbing the aching spot sleepily, I blinked twice, and then shook my dark brown hair out of my eyes. I looked around slowly until my gaze found the object that had come into contact with my head, only one among many of other similar objects that lay on the grass around me.

"An apple?"

I picked up the brilliant red fruit with my right hand and stared at it in confusion. My thoughts were muddled, but eventually, an intelligent thought broke through the fog.

_Apple. I'm under an apple tree._

I looked up. It took all of one second to see the bright red object hurtling down toward me, and to realize that it was yet another apple.

It took all of two seconds for me to realize that it was going to hit me in the face. By that time, it was too late.

"Ouch!" I yelped as the apple, rock hard, struck me just below my right eye.

My hand flew to my eye. Still there. I shook my head, and then groaned.

_So much for a sleepy summer afternoon._

_THUMP._

Another apple hit the ground inches away from me. Even in my sleepy state, I knew that no ordinary apple tree sheds apples at such a rate. Rolling over out from under the tree quickly, I rose to my feet and then stepped carefully back under the tree.

_THUMP. _

I barely managed to avoid being hit, yet again, by yet another bright red apple. This time, however, I did manage to see the part of the tree from where the apple had fallen.

"Lion's mane, what _are_ you doing?" I shouted angrily up into the tree, whether at bird, animal, or human, I honestly didn't know.

"It's about time you noticed me," a voice said. "That's the fifteenth apple I've thrown at you. I've almost run out."

I peered up into the leafy branches, trying to catch sight of the speaker.

"Where are you? How did you get up there?" I asked, clenching my hands into fists with an effort to keep from sounding angry. "Why were you throwing apples at me?"

"Do you _always_ ask so many questions?" the voice asked teasingly. "Why are grownups always so _dull_? How do you _think_ I got up here? I climbed."

So it was a child. A boy by his voice. Perhaps seven or eight years old. Cheeky little blighter. Didn't seem to have an accent like most of the peasant children did. That told me that he must not have been raised in the country. So he was raised in a castle, or large city. Perhaps he was the son of a lord, or maybe a young Faun. Fauns rarely had distinct accents. Of course, Fauns couldn't climb trees very easily. It must be a human.

So it was a seven-year-old human boy, who lived in a castle, possible nobility.

"Why were you throwing apples at me?" I asked again.

"You were snoring," the unseen boy replied. "Besides…who wants to sleep on a day like this?"

I rolled my eyes and sighed.

_I did. _

"I don't snore," I said irritably. "Come down here so I can see you."

"Why don't _you_ come up here?" retorted the voice. "And you _were_ snoring. I heard you. Unless that was your stomach growling. Are you hungry? Would you like another apple?"

I growled, and glared up at the branches.

"If you don't come down here in the next five seconds…"

"Are you threatening me?" asked the boy, his voice challenging and unafraid. "I don't think you're really in a position to threaten me. You're probably just afraid to climb this high."

I sighed again, shaking my head.

"I certainly am in a position to threaten you, and if you don't come down in the next few seconds than I'll—"

_THUMP._

Another apple fell from the tree and hit me on the shoulder. My brown eyes narrowed, and I picked up the apple. Glancing up at the tree, I took a step back and took aim. Then, praying my judge of where the voice came from was not too far off, I threw the apple as hard as I could.

"Ouch!" the boy's voice yelped.

One of the branches shook, and I grinned in satisfaction. The leaves on the branch shook harder, and two legs appeared. Then, as I stepped out of the way, a slim figure fell from the tree and landed hard on his back on the grass.

The boy, as I had suspected, was about seven years old. His sandy blond hair hung in his eyes. The lad tossed his head back, and I couldn't help but grinning at the sight of the boy's vivid blue eyes and freckled face. He was dressed in a simple green tunic with brown trousers, both covered in mud and dirt; but with one look at the cloth, I knew that the lad's clothes were not merely cheap peasant's clothing.

"Thank you for coming down," I said, raising an eyebrow as I looked the lad over. "I appreciate your promptness."

The boy grinned up at me.

"My promptness was due to your well thrown apple. Otherwise you would have had to climb up to see me."

I grinned back. I couldn't help it; the boy's smile was infectious. Shaking himself off, the boy rose carefully to his feet. His merry blue eyes twinkled, and I immediately realized that though my prisoner was a scamp, he was a likable scamp.

"What is your name?" I asked.

The boy fidgeted, as if he was thinking about telling a lie, but then shrugged.

"Corin. What's yours?"

Corin. An odd name. Archenlandish by the sound of it. But what was an Archenlandish boy doing in one of the innermost courtyards of Cair Paravel?

"Edmund," I said, sticking my hand out.

Corin took my hand and shook it, nodding his head politely.

"Nice to meet you. Sorry about the apples."

I gave him a sly look, and then shook my head.

"No you're not."

Corin's eyes widened, and then he grinned and laughed.

"No, not really, but it's still polite to apologize."

"It's all right," I found myself saying. "I used to throw apples at my brother, and I never was the least bit sorry."

"You have a brother?" the boy asked, glancing up at me jealously, the smile almost vanishing. "You're lucky."

"Why?"

"I don't have one," Corin said forlornly, looking away. But then his face brightened as he looked me over again. "Maybe you could be my brother!"

I let out a laugh and shook my head.

"I don't think so. I have enough trouble with a younger sister."

I sat down on the grass, grabbing one of the apples from the ground. Corin did the same.

"What are you doing here?" I asked indifferently, taking a sweet, juicy bite of my red cheeked apple.

"Well, I got tired of waiting for Father. He's busy inside the castle, you know. And one of the ladies said I could look for the orchard, because I said I was hungry, and then I saw you sleeping under the tree. You were snoring."

"I don't snore," I said, repeating my earlier statement.

The boy shrugged, grinning again.

"Well then it must have been the mouse in your pocket."

I stared at him.

"I don't have a mouse in my pocket," I replied in bewilderment.

Corin stared at me. His smile faded, but the twinkle in his eyes did not.

"I was making a joke," he said slowly, as if speaking to a young child. "You know…something one laughs at?"

I raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly.

"First joke I've heard in a while."

"Really? That's terrible," Corin remarked, shaking his head sadly. "Maybe you could come and stay with Father and me at Anvard. Then you'd hear plenty of jokes."

"Maybe I will," I murmured absently as I processed this new information.

So he _was_ from Archenland. The castle Anvard, even. He said his father had business inside the Cair. Who was his father? And what treaty or assembly was going on today that involved an Archenlander?

I felt like the answer was right before me, but I couldn't grasp it. I closed my eyes in frustration and tried to remember.

Suddenly, an apple hit me on the shoulder.

"Ouch!" I shouted, my eyes popping open again and my right hand flying to my stinging arm.

Corin, mischievous grin dancing across his face, had two apples in his hands, and fired another at me. I ducked and grabbed an apple from the ground, thrusting it Corin's way.

"Hey!" Corin laughed as the apple whizzed past him, barely missing his left leg. "Can't you aim better than that?"

I growled playfully and fired another apple at the boy, throwing it rather harder and higher than I meant to. It caught Corin directly in the mouth. He cried out and stumbled backward, putting his hand to his lips. I frowned and stepped carefully over to him. When his fingers came away, they were covered in blood. He was holding something in his hand, and he stared at it, first in horror, and then in delight.

"Corin? Are you all right?"

As he looked up, his eyes were sparkling. He smiled, and suddenly I understood.

One of his front teeth was missing.

_Su's going to have my head._

Even though he was bleeding profusely, I had to admit that he looked fascinatingly—I shudder to say it—cute. He reminded me of Lucy. She had lost both of her front teeth within several days of each other, and had gone around for weeks smiling with a horribly adorable hole in her line of perfect white teeth. His golden hair, his cerulean eyes…it was like seeing my sister at seven all over again—or what she would have been had she been born a boy.

Corin smiled as he stared down at the tiny white tooth in his palm.

"It's been loose for months," he said, his words a bit slurred together, as his tongue was busy exploring the new hole in his line of smooth teeth. "I was hoping it would come out soon. I've been wiggling it—and the one next to it."

I raised an eyebrow in confusion and gave him a look.

"You mean…you wanted it to fall out?"

Corin stared at me like I was insane.

"Of course! In fact, I guess I sort of owe you a favor now."

After a moment, Corin grinned at me—revealing again that horrible, wonderful gap—and reached into his tunic.

"Do you want a sweet cake?" he asked, holding out a small brown object that resembled a cookie, though it was rather crumbly.

"Rather," I replied, taking the cake and grinning at him. "All this apple throwing can make one awfully hungry."

I tasted it.

_That's_ f_unny. It tastes like the sweet cakes that Cook makes. But that's impossible. They're her special recipe. She guards her sweet cakes like they're treasure… _

_…which isn't far from the truth._

"Where did you get this?" I asked Corin.

The boy fidgeted, glancing down at the apple in his hands.

"The kitchen."

"The kitchen?"

"Yes…good, isn't it?"

I watched the lad suspiciously.

"Very. In fact, it's almost too good to be true."

"A man gave some to me," Corin remarked, taking a big, juicy bite out of the apple, wincing because it was hard to take a bite of an apple with only one front tooth, and then giving me a curious look. "He seemed very nervous. Almost like he wanted me to go away. Then he said he heard the cook coming and that I had better run."

My brow furrowed in thought as I processed this new information.

"HELP! HELP, MURDER!" came a shriek from inside the castle.

Both Corin and I turned toward the archway that led inside. A plump, red-faced woman wearing a brown tunic and white apron rushed into the courtyard.

"King Edmund!" she screamed upon spotting me, her brown eyes wild and filled with fear and horror. "My assistant has been murdered!"

**_

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_**

To be continued...


	2. Investigation

_--Chapter 2: Investigation--_

"Edmund!"

I tried not to groan as I heard Susan's voice over the murmur of the other people that were filling the courtyard around the cook.

"Edmund, have you seen—"

She stopped short when she saw Corin.

"Prince Corin! Your father was worried that some harm had befallen you! How on earth did you disappear so quickly? Is that _blood_ on your shirt?"

My heart skipped a beat.

"_Prince_ Corin?"

Susan looked at me like I was mad.

"Yes, Edmund. King Lune of Archenland is visiting from Anvard and decided at the last moment to bring his son with him…" she stopped when she saw the look on my face, one that doubtless showed how shocked and surprised I was. "You didn't know?"

"No." I replied, giving Corin a reproachful look. "I didn't."

Corin looked at me sheepishly.

"Now, what's all this about murder?" Susan asked, floating gracefully over to Cook and laying a hand on her shoulder.

"My assistant—my nephew—Geoffrey," Cook murmured, her eyes wide with terror. "I walked into the kitchen to check on the bread, and…well," she shuddered, looking away. "Maybe you'd better see for yourselves."

Susan started to follow the cook, but then turned back to me, shaking her head.

"Perhaps you should go, Ed. The sight of blood makes my stomach turn."

"Oh it's not blood, your Majesty," Cook said, her face pale as flour as she turned again to my older sister. "He's been poisoned!"

A frightened murmur rose up in the crowd, and I glanced around anxiously. It wouldn't do to have the people of Cair Paravel worrying about poison and murder. Rumors would begin circulating and Peter would be overly cautious for _months_.

"Maybe we should go somewhere away from all this," I said, drawing Cook and Susan out of the courtyard and into the hall. Corin followed us, his face as white as a sheet. Once we were out of the open and in a quiet hallway, I turned to Cook.

"How do you know your assistant was poisoned?"

Cook finally broke down and began to cry. She mopped her red face with her apron as she sobbed.

"He took a drink of the High King's goblet, just to be sure it was _safe_ to drink, and then he just fainted…fell to the ground!"

I turned swiftly and headed toward the kitchen.

"Edmund, be careful!" Susan shouted after me; I glanced back and gave her a reassuring nod, and then sprinted as quickly as I could.

When I reached the kitchen and saw the man lying on the ground I frowned and hesitated. Hoping that the poison would not be dangerous to touch, I knelt by the man's side and felt his pulse. Susan and Corin burst into the room. I glanced hastily up at my older sister.

"He's not dead! Still alive. Get Lucy now!"

A look of understanding crossed Susan's face, and she turned immediately, gathering up her skirts and running faster than she had in ages. I stayed beside Cook's assistant, loosening his collar and waiting for my sister to return.

"Is there anything I can do?" Corin asked, shuddering as he gazed down at the nearly dead man.

I winced at the look on his face, wondering why I hadn't had him kept away. He seemed terrified, but resolute. That was a good sign. I wondered briefly if he'd had any past experiences with poisoned people, but then decided to give him a reason to escape for a few moments and get over the shock.

"Yes. Go fetch some water from the kitchen. He'll be quite thirsty when he awakens."

_If he awakens._

Cook sobbed on next to me. She mopped her red face continually with her white apron, which was now smudged, grimy, and probably in a much worse condition than when she had put it on that morning.

"Cook," I said suddenly, straightening and putting a hand on her shoulder, "Good Cook, I need your help."

The sobs stopped almost instantly as the woman turned to me and said earnestly, between sniffs,

"Oh, King Edmund, what can I do?"

I knelt again beside the man and felt for a pulse. Still there.

"I need you to tell me exactly what happened when you saw that your assistant had been poisoned. Tell me everything."

Cook's cinnamon eyes filled with tears, but she blew her nose bravely on her apron and managed to keep from bursting into tears as she related the morning's tragedy to me.

"Well, Sire, I was bringing in the bread for the midday meal. My assistant—he's my sister's son, Sire—decided to take it upon himself to make sure the High King's wine was safe to drink. He's always pretending, Sire, Geoffrey is. I shook my head at 'im," Cook continued with a sob, "and not ten seconds later he got all stiff-like, and then slumped to the ground."

I nodded and smiled grimly.

"Thank you, Cook. That solves that mystery."

The cook began to ask me what I meant, but just then the door swung open with a bang, and in raced Lucy, her diamond bottle of cordial in her small hands.

"I brought it, Ed," she panted, her eyes shifting from me to the young man on the floor with lightning fast speed. "Oh Edmund! Is he still alive?"

"He is and will remain alive if you hurry, Lu," I replied, trying to make plain to her our need for haste. It would be terrible if she was just a moment too late to save him.

Lucy knelt immediately, twisting the cap off the bottle and holding it over the young man's mouth. With a practiced hand, she gave him exactly one drop of the precious juice. We all waited in silence. After what seemed like ages but was really about seven seconds, the young man coughed once and then took a deep breath of Narnian air. Cook flung her arms around him, and then leapt up, actually dancing for joy.

"He's alive!" she cried, tears of joy appearing in the corners of her eyes. "Oh, thank you, Queen Lucy!"

"Water," croaked the young man, his lips parched and his tongue dry.

Corin stepped up immediately with the water pitcher he had found, giving the boy a good, long drink. Then, the young man sat up and looked around.

"What happened?" he asked, sounding ever so much better than he had scarce seconds ago. "Aunt?"

Cook knelt beside him and stroked his hair tenderly.

"You drank the wine from the High King's cup, Geoffrey," she said softly.

"And the poison that was meant for him too," I added, standing suddenly.

Lucy gasped. It occurred to me that Susan had not told her the circumstances under which the man that needed healing had been hurt.

"Poison? Someone tried to poison Peter?"

I nodded wearily and ran a hand through my hair.

"So it would seem."

The young man, Geoffrey, rose to his feet with help from the cook.

"I owe you my life, Queen Lucy," he said gratefully, bowing unsteadily to my sister.

"And we owe you our brother's," she replied with an equally grateful smile, curtseying back.

I cleared my throat, stepping between them—and the looks that were passing between them. Peter and I already had enough trouble with suitors for Susan. Lucy was only 15; I wasn't nearly ready to even _think_ about starting the whole bother again with her.

"Cook, please escort your nephew to the healers. He is in no more danger of dying, but in order to keep from suffering any unnecessary aftereffects of the poison, he should take it easy for the next few days and take the prescribed remedy. Windmane the Centaur will ask what herbs to use…tell her that Geoffrey needs the cure for 'Adder's Blood'."

Cook gasped at the name of the deadly poison.

"Adder's Blood? How do you make that out—with all due respect, your highness?" she added this last bit rather apologetically, feeling that she had been out of place in her exclamation.

I shrugged and nodded at the pitcher in Corin's hands.

"The symptoms. The victim goes rigid five seconds after the poison is administered, and then collapses immediately; they are also found to be extremely thirsty when revived. _If_ revived, though seldom are."

I decided not to mention that when victims of Adder's Blood were not revived, their bodies turned a light blue color in death.

The door slammed open again, and this time Susan entered, huffing and puffing in a most unqueenly fashion. She saw Geoffrey on his feet and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Lucy made it in time after all," she remarked serenely. "I'm so glad."

Cook escorted her nephew out, and Lucy trailed along behind, "In case Windmane needs help", she said. Corin was right on her heels, staring up at my youngest sister with wide blue eyes, full of curiosity and admiration.

Su and I were left alone in the room.

"Adder's Blood," I said after a moment, glancing down at Peter's goblet, nearly emptied of the poisoned wine. "A poison found in the veins of the Calormene Adder, the most venomous serpent in the land, whose blood itself is its venom."

"So the assassin is from Calormen?" Susan asked from beside me, a tremor in her voice.

I turned to her with a frown.

"Not necessarily. It could be that someone else wants to place the blame on Calormen for this tragic occurrence."

Susan nodded sagely at this comment, and then smiled at me.

"Edmund the Just. Perhaps your title should have been 'Edmund the Wise'. It might fit you better. That boy would not have lived were it not for your quick thinking. Peter will be so proud of you."

I blushed at the compliment, and then felt silly for being so pleased.

"Thanks, Su," I said quietly, picking up the goblet and turning it over in my hands, "but maybe we shouldn't tell Peter about this just now."

At the bewildered look on my sister's face, I explained my statement.

"I mean, think about it. He's busy enough as it is, and with this new 'poisoning', he'll be up to his neck in trouble. Maybe if we could just keep it quiet…"

"Susan!? Ed?"

I stopped abruptly as the voice of said older brother drifted into the kitchen. The heavy wooden door slammed open, and Peter bound in, breathing hard, as if he had been running. He staggered over to Susan and put a hand on her shoulder, glancing worriedly at me as he spoke.

"Are you two all right? Lucy told me what happened."

I nearly groaned as I realized that the secret of the poison was already out. Of course Lucy _would_ have told Peter; she never could keep anything a secret.

"We're fine, Peter," my older sister replied calmly, giving him a patient, motherly look.

The High King let out a sigh of relief and ran a hand through his windblown hair, most likely disturbed in the act of sprinting all the way from the throne room to the kitchen, a most unkingly feat, to be sure.

"What happened, Edmund?"

I shrugged and gestured at the cup.

"I suppose our dear little sister told you about the poison?"

Peter's brow furrowed, and he frowned, picking up his goblet and glancing into it.

"She mentioned something of the sort, but I didn't get the full story. She was awfully excited.

He raised the goblet up to his face and my eyes widened.

_Is he about to drink that? Surely Peter wouldn't be such an idiot… _

_…but then again…_

Before my older brother could inadvertently kill himself, I cried, "What are you doing?!" and slapped the goblet out of his hands. The poisoned wine splashed all over the floor, and Susan's dress, a shriek emanating from the wearer of the stained garment. Peter jumped back.

"What on _earth_, Edmund?" he shouted, staring at me like I had gone mad.

"That wine is _poisoned_," I replied, giving my older brother a frustrated look. "Why in Narnia were you about to _drink_ it? Shouldn't you be a _bit_ more cautious?"

Peter sighed and rolled his eyes toward heaven, leaning heavily on the wooden table.

"Lion's mane, Ed, I was _smelling_ it. Some poisons can be identified by their smell." He grinned at me. "And you're always saying that_ I_ worry about things too much."

Susan gave me an annoyed look, and then glanced down at her lovely yellow dress, now stained a shade of dark purple.

"Maybe 'the Wise' doesn't fit you so well after all," she remarked dryly after a moment of embarrassed silence.

I felt my face go hot.

"Sorry. Peter, we already know what the poison is."

The High King cocked his head and raised his eyebrow again.

"Really? How can you tell for sure?"

"The symptoms of the victim," I replied, my throat suddenly growing dry at the thought of what the cook's nephew would have looked like had we arrived but a few minutes later. "Pete, it's Adder's Blood."

I watched, slightly amused, as the impatient look on Peter's face morphed instantly into one of horror. The horror lasted less than a second though, and was quickly covered up with a look of veiled concern as my older brother slipped into his court face.

"Adder's Blood. A Calormene assassin, you think?"

I shrugged, giving him a grim smile.

"It could be. It's most likely a Calormene; but we can't really know. It might be someone else trying to rouse us against Calormen for some reason or another."

Peter nodded, recognizing the reason in my statement. He sighed and rubbed his head thoughtfully.

"Yes, it would probably be best not to jump to conclusions in this case. Keep an eye out, though. You never know what the consequences might be if this," he gestured at the goblet, "happens again."

He picked up his golden cup from where it lay on the floor and placed it carefully on the table. The poisoned wine that was pooled on the floor was as red as blood, and I shuddered, making a mental note to have it cleaned up.

"Come on, Su," Peter said with a casual smile for our sister. "You'd best get out of that dress before someone thinks the wine on it is blood and comes riding to your aid. Lord Col couldn't keep his eyes off you at the noon meal."

Susan grinned at him and stuck out her tongue at Peter in a most unqueenly fashion.

"Lord Col indeed. I almost wish that someone else, _beside_ our Narnian nobles, might come for a visit every now and then. It's a bit dull when there are no new dignitaries to dazzle."

All this my sister said with a teasing smile, flipping her hair over her shoulder grandly as she spoke. She knew how Peter despised the days on which her many suitors visited, each one begging to be admitted to see the lovely, beautiful, gracious, fair, noble, graceful Queen Susan. She'd been given more adjectives than the rest of us put together, though Peter provided a good rival when it came to the ladies and princesses that came seeking his hand.

"The King of Galma and his two children are arriving sometime this month," Peter replied, patting Susan on the head with a grin. "Perhaps you will find some new poor devil to beguile with your feminine charms."

Susan batted her eyes at him and sighed romantically.

"And I suppose that one of the king's children is a young lady who is oh-so-interested in meeting the High King of Narnia, who is rumored to be the most handsome and courageous man in all of Narnia, Archenland, and Calormen?!"

This time it was Peter who stuck his tongue out at her, and they both grinned at the fun. I rolled my eyes. Older siblings. Who could understand them?

Who wanted to?

"I'll see you around, Ed," Peter said, nodding his farewell to me as he turned to go. "Keep your sword with you at all times; just in case."

"And you keep Lucy nearby every time you want a drink," I replied dryly, giving one more glance to the golden goblet on the table and the spilled wine on the floor. "Poison, especially the Adder's Blood, is not a thing to be unconcerned about."

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_**To be continued…**_


	3. Suspect

_--Chapter 3: Suspect--_

A few days after the "Adder's Blood Incident", I found myself lying under the same apple tree, dozing off only to awake with a jerk for fear of another apple attack or cry of murder. This day was not half as relaxing as the day before had been, for now Corin had disappeared. Though he was not bothering me at the moment, I knew that it was almost worse to know that Corin was lurking about somewhere, ready to spring upon me at any time. Just as I finally drifted off to sleep, my ears heard the faint sounds of a fight.

With a grunt, I rolled over and tried to ignore the sounds of battle. Then I heard the shout of a boy that sounded remarkably like the Prince of Archenland. Reluctantly, I pushed myself up, groaning irritably. As I got to my feet, I looked right and left, trying to decide from which direction the sounds came. It didn't take me long to realize that they were coming from the courtyard just opposite the Orchard. I sighed heavily, stretched, and then stepped briskly through the gate into the courtyard.

"Bother Corin," I muttered, mostly to myself. "There's no peace with him around. If Susan and Lucy don't agree to watch him for a while, then I don't know if I can stand life here. Probably have to go on a sea voyage or something to escape him. And all this business about murder doesn't help things either."

I was greeted by the sight of two boys wrestling on the ground. Another boy stood off to one side, cheering one or both of the others on. As I came nearer, I could see, to my dismay—but not surprise—that one of the fighting boys was, indeed, Prince Corin.

"Corin!" I shouted, trying in vain to suppress my anger. "What in Narnia do you think you're _doing_? Stop that at once!"

In a few quick paces, I reached the struggling boys and pulled them apart with some difficulty.

"Stand up. Both of you," I said, trying with some difficulty to control my boy whom Corin had been fighting looked about the prince's age, maybe a few years older. He had bright red hair and dull brown eyes, one of which was slowly swelling and turning purple around the edges. His nose was bleeding. Corin also had a black eye, and his lip was split open. Both boys were covered in mud, dirt, blood, and multiple bruises. I tried to conceal a grin as I glanced, first at the prince, and then at the other lad.

"Lion's mane, Prince Corin," I began, half-angrily and half trying not to laugh at their appearances, "what in Narnia do you think you are doing?"

"Fighting, highness," Corin said, holding his head high and not looking at me.

I sighed in exasperation and gave the prince an irritated glare.

"Yes, I could see that. What were you fighting _about_?"

Corin fidgeted for a moment, and then met my gaze with a fierce look in his blue eyes.

"I was telling them that I could beat any boy my age at boxing and Tal laughed and said that I couldn't beat a boy older than me and so I said I bet I could and he said I couldn't and I said I could and then he hit me and we started fighting," Corin exclaimed, all in the same breath.

I heaved another heavy sigh and shook my head, looking first at Corin, then at Tal.

"What am I going to do with you?" I asked, shaking my head at the boys and sighing. "Get on you two, while I speak with the prince."

"Yes, King Edmund," the older boy said quickly, grabbing the younger one and darting away, both of them sending rather awed glances over their shoulders.

I watched them go, and then put my hand on Corin's shoulder.

"Do you always get into so much trouble at home?" I asked after a moment.

Corin looked thoughtful, and then grinned up at me.

"I guess so. Father says that I am…impossible."

I shook my head wearily and smiled.

"I think I'll agree to that, though it's not quite the word I would use."

_More like incorrigible. Ha. Incorrigible Corin. That fits rather nicely._

Corin gazed longingly at my sword. When I noticed the object upon which the prince's eyes were fixed, I drew my blade slowly from its sheath. Corin sighed in wonder as his eyes studied my glistening sword.

"I wish I could be in battles and wield a sword like that," he said in an awestruck voice.

"Battles are not at all like you might think," I replied, sheathing my sword carefully after he had had an eyeful, sitting down on the grass, and continuing. "They were quite different from what I expected."

"Why?" asked Corin, wrinkling his nose.

"Well…" I searched for the right answer. I didn't exactly want to tell him about all the violence. It's not a good thing to fill a child's mind with, all the blood and gore and fear and rage. Finally, I came up with a different answer, one that would keep him busy for a while--at least I hoped it would.

"For one thing, you have to know when and where to strike."

I glanced around for an object with which I could demonstrate. After a moment, my eyes found a shield leaning up against the courtyard wall on a rack where a soldier had been polishing it. Standing and striding over to it, I hefted it easily. It was a dwarf-made buckler; smaller than the shields made for men. Its round shape barely covered my arm and left my elbow exposed. Then as I walked back to Corin, I found a solid stick that was about the length of a short sword.

"Here," I said, handing the stick to Corin. "Now hit my shield with your sword, and we'll see if you're strong enough for battle."

Corin glanced uncertainly at the stick, but when he looked back at me, he had a mischievous gleam in his eyes. I smiled encouragingly and nodded my head.

"When you're ready, Prince Corin."

Corin grasped his 'sword' and tested its weight. Then, he pulled it back over his head and swung at my left arm where the buckler was fastened.

If the situation had been between me and any _normal_ boy, everything would have gone exactly as I had intended. The stick would have bounced off my buckler, and I would have charged him while he wasn't expecting it and tackled him. But of course, this wasn't a _normal_ boy. _This_ was Prince Corin.

Of course, Corin didn't _mean_ to hit my elbow. But Corin never _means_ to do anything. It just _happens_ somehow; like trouble is magnetically drawn to him. And so, with trouble magnetically drawn to him, Corin just _happened_ to hit my elbow. The only part of my arm that the shield did not protect. And to make matters worse, he hit my funny bone.

"Ouch!" I yelped, clutching my stinging elbow and tearing off the shield.

Corin dropped his stick in surprise and took several steps back. I gritted my teeth and felt my elbow and up along my arm. From the bend of my elbow to the tips of my fingers, my entire arm was numb, but little spasms of pain made me wince when I tried to move it. Trying not to moan in pain, I rubbed my elbow gently.

"What's wrong?" Corin asked, worried that he had gotten into trouble yet again. "I didn't break your arm, did I?"

"No…" I said through gritted teeth, struggling to speak without a moan, "just hit my…funny bone…"

"Funny bone?" Corin asked, a grin crossing his face. "Is that a joke?"

"No!" I hissed. "It's not a joke, and it's not even a bone. Just an easily compressible nerve that just _happened_ to be in the way of your stick! Upon solid impact, one's arm can become numb for up to half an hour."

Corin's eyes grew large, and his grin widened as he watched me, King Edmund the Just, lean back against a tree, clutching my injured arm. The arm that he had just inadvertently injured.

"Edmund!"

I let out a groan as I heard the voice of the last person I wanted to see at the moment.

"Not now, Pete," I muttered under my breath. "This _really_ isn't a good time."

Corin's grin grew even bigger when he saw who was entering the courtyard.

"King Edmund," the prince whispered. "It's the High King. He's got his sword. Do you think he wants to fight you in a duel?"

I aimed a glare at Corin, who was apparently enjoying the situation immensely.

"If you say another word, your _highness_," I hissed viciously, "than I see that you are kept inside with my sisters—_all_ _day_."

Corin's face took on an uneasy expression at the threat, and he nodded, obediently pressing his lips tightly closed.

"Greetings, brother!" said Peter as he reached Corin and me. "Tis a lovely day, is it not?"

With him was a young lady, a young man, and an older man with dark skin and black hair that was lightly speckled with grey. The girl, most likely a princess or some noble lady, I thought as I studied the three, wore a long, light blue dress that matched her light blue eyes. Her long golden hair was pulled back in a complicated hairstyle; one I thought looked rather ridiculous. I much preferred Lucy's version of the 'Narnian hairstyle', hair hanging down over her shoulders with flowers woven through her locks.

The young man had carefully cropped auburn hair that fell so that it just brushed his eyebrows. His clothes were plainer than the girl's, I noticed as I casually glanced over the green tunic and brown trousers, but was obviously of the same expensive fabric. The girl looked as if she was about Susan's age, but her brother—at least, I _assumed_ it was her brother—looked a couple years younger, certainly no older than I.

The other man, a tall, serious-looking chap, looked almost old enough to be their father, though I was almost certain that he was not for some reason that I could not put my finger on at once.

With an effort, I smiled and stood up straight, dropping my arm to my side and trying not to wince as painful twinges ran up and down it.

"Yes, Pete?" I said, giving my older brother a reproachful glance.

Peter frowned, not understanding the look, and then looked back at the lady and young man.

"Edmund, these are the children of King Gavin of Galma. They are visiting the court of Cair Paravel to taste of Narnia, and her people. Princess Iliea, Prince Eric, allow me to make known to you my brother, King Edmund."

I smiled and bowed courteously, gritting my teeth as another jolt of pain ran through my arm.

"A pleasure, your highnesses."

The princess curtseyed gracefully, and her brother bowed in return.

"The pleasure is ours, King Edmund," replied Prince Eric—rather boredly, I thought.

"In-_deed_," agreed the princess ardently, sending a smitten glance at the High King. "Eric and I could hardly wait when Father announced that we would be traveling to Narnia. Tis such a beautiful land you rule, King Peter."

Even though my arm still hurt like the dickens, I barely repressed a snort. Peter nodded in acknowledgement to her comment with something akin to a smile, but what looked to me like a grimace, and then gestured toward the other man.

"And this is the Lord Chancellor of Galma, Lord Irwin."

The dark man bowed low and then raised his eyes to meet mine.

"Your Majesty," he said in a low, slightly accented voice. "King Gavin is most highly thankful for your kindness in allowing us to remain at Cair Paravel in your court."

I bowed back, my mind not on the introduction, but on this man before me. One thing about this Lord Irwin was painfully apparent to me that Peter seemed to have missed.

He was Calormene. And the poison meant to kill Peter had been from Calormen.

* * *

_**To be continued…**_


	4. A Very Long Summer Indeed

_--Chapter 4: A Very Long Summer Indeed--_

"Your king is most welcome, and our hope is that he and his children will enjoy their stay at Cair," I replied automatically, tossing my dark hair out of my eyes.

"If your highnesses will excuse me, I'd like to have a word with King Edmund," Peter said, grabbing my arm—_ouch!_—and pulling me away.

"Certainly," Iliea murmured, glancing at Corin with a gentle smile. "And what is your name, sweetheart?"

I shot a triumphant grin at Corin, who was looking rather green at the term 'sweetheart'. Peter pulled me aside and said:

"Ed…would you show Eric around? I'm certain he'd like to see the armory, and maybe you could teach him a thing or two about using a sword. I get the feeling that his father, King Gavin, is hoping that I will knight him later on in their visit here. Will you get him started?"

I bit back a moan.

"I'd love to, Peter. You know I would, but—"

"Great! My thanks, Edmund; I really owe you one," Peter interrupted before I could finish.

Then, he whirled around and returned to the princess, her brother, and the Lord Chancellor.

"Princess Iliea, I have some matters of state to attend to. Would you like to return with me and join my sister, Susan?"

"Actually, High King," the princess crooned, batting her long lashes at him, "I think I'd rather stay here with your brother and speak with yon adorable Prince Corin!"

Peter chuckled at the sick look on Corin's face, and bowed a farewell.

"Until this evening, my lady," he said gallantly.

"Until this evening, High King," Iliea replied, almost swooning at the words.

The High King turned to leave, but then hesitated and looked back.

"Be careful, Ed," he said, glancing first at me, and then at the princess. "That assassin may still be in the castle. Don't go _anywhere_ without your sword."

"But Pete—"

I wished my brother would open his eyes and look beside him. The Lord Chancellor looked awfully suspicious, especially since the Galmians had arrived on the very day of the attempted murder. Unfortunately, someone else spoke at the same time.

"Assassin?" Princess Iliea asked, swaying a bit as her eyes opened quite wide. "Are we in danger?"

I bit back yet another groan. Of course she _would _act out the damsel in distress. Lord Irwin frowned, seemingly for no reason at all.

"Merely a precaution, milady," Peter said, smiling gently at her, and then sending an impatient look my way.

"We'll be fine, Peter. Or should I say _Mum_?" I added the last bit just loudly enough for my brother to hear.

Peter shot me an exasperated look for my teasing, which was due to his tendency to be overprotective, and then nodded at us, turning to leave.

"Good day, brother."

Lord Irwin watched Peter go, and then decided to follow the High King, giving me a distrustful look as he left. All four of us watched Peter and Irwin go, and then Corin pulled at my sleeve.

"Can we throw her in the well?" Corin whispered, just loudly enough for me—but, thank Aslan, no one else—to hear.

I flashed him a grin and shook my head sadly.

"I'm afraid it's quite against the Narnian code of chivalry. Besides, our political position with the Galmians might change drastically if we took your advice and disposed of the fair lady in the castle well," I replied in matched tones. "As it is, I'm afraid you're just going to have to bear it like a man and let her call you 'sweet adorable Corin'."

Corin stuck out his tongue, and then punched me lightly on the elbow.

"Careful," he said as I bit back another yelp of pain, clutching my still tingling arm. "You might want to watch what you say, or I'll tell that 'fair lady' that this 'sweet adorable Corin' knocked the fight out of a king three times his age."

"Only a bit more than twice your age," I replied crossly. "I'm not _that_ old yet."

"King Edmund?"

I gritted my teeth into a sort of smile, giving Corin a warning glance, and turned to face Prince Eric.

_Why do we have so many princes here at the same time?_ I wondered absently.

"Yes, Prince Eric?"

The prince's hazel eyes darted around the courtyard, glancing at the buckler on the ground from where I had thrown it after Corin had hit my elbow, and then at the sword at my side.

"I…I'm not sure if the High King has told you, but I am training to become a knight."

"He told me," I replied, rather shortly.

Eric's eyes brightened.

"King Peter said that you were one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom."

"He's _the _best," I commented dryly. "Though I'm sure he was much too modest to tell you so. I'm not nearly as good as he is."

"All the same," the prince continued, "do you think you could show me…you know…the Narnian style of handling a sword?"

"Oh do, Prince Edmund," Princess Iliea said sweetly, batting her eyes at me and smiling brightly.

"It's King, actually," I replied, somewhat annoyed. So many people simply assumed that a country could have only one king at a time, naturally demoting me, the younger brother, to the rank of 'Prince'.

"Father would be so much obliged," continued the princess, ignoring my comment entirely and thus annoying me further. "Eric learned the basics in Galma, of course, but he's been just longing to learn how to _properly_ use a sword for as long as I can remember."

Eric shot his sister an irritated glance, which I noted with some curiosity.

_Sibling tension? This might be interesting._

"Oh do, _Prince _Edmund," Corin whispered, batting his eyelashes and mimicking Iliea. "I'm sure the fair lady would be _so_ obliged!"

I shot him a yet another glare, only _just_ restraining my temper and rubbing my aching arm absently.

"Princess Iliea …I don't think that I am the right one to teach your brother swordplay."

"You mean you can't fight?" Iliea asked with a slight frown.

"No," I exclaimed hastily. "It's not that I _can't_…"

"He's just afraid to," Corin put in.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, and tried not to think about throwing Corin into the well.

"Afraid?" Eric asked, a quick grin crossing his face as he exchanged a mischievous glance with Corin. "Is that it, King Edmund?"

I held back a growl with some difficulty.

"Prince Eric," I said coldly, "I believe our dear Prince Corin is merely trying to provoke me. He enjoys fighting with people for apparently no reason whatsoever. I am not afraid, merely…unable, to fight you in a duel."

"Unable?" repeated the princess. "What-_ever_ do you mean?"

"Never mind," I said quickly, changing my mind as another tingle ran up my arm. It was beginning to throb, but at least I could feel it again. "Allow me to show you the way to the armory, where we have dozens of swords you can choose from to begin your training."

_This is going to be a long summer,_ I thought with a sigh as I led the three others to the armory. _Prince Corin, a mysterious murderer, and now these Galmians…_

I sighed again. _A very long summer indeed._

* * *

_**To be continued….**_


	5. The Armory Incident

**A/N: Hey everyone! I am SO grateful to those of you who have reviewed this fic so far! (and those who have actually read up to here...;D) I know these chapters with Edmund and Corin are fun-but-getting-kinda-old, but I have just this one more and then we introduce a new character and more things start happening. :D Don't you love when that happens? Again, thanks to those who have reviewed, and please, PLEASE keep it up! Reviews are like air and water to a starving writer (fanfiction or otherwise!!!). **

* * *

_--Chapter 5: The Armory Incident--_

Prince Eric, Princess Iliea, Corin, and I reached the armory without incident. At the sight of the shining armor and weaponry, Corin began asking a list of endless questions. Needless to say, I wasn't surprised. Lucy had been exactly the same way when she was seven. It was still annoying.

"What's that?" he asked excitedly, pointing at an object that stood with its back to the wall.

I sighed for what must've been the thirtieth time that morning as I glanced over at the object.

"A suit of armor," I replied, a bit shortly. "Come on."

Corin stared at the suit in wonder, and then reluctantly turned to follow me again.

"What was it used for?" he asked as he struggled to keep up with me.

I growled under his breath, but shot only the slightest glance of frustration Corin's way.

_When I finish with this, Susan and Peter are going to pay._

"Knights wear it in battles to ward off arrows and swords."

"How did they put it on?" Corin asked, glancing at another suit of armor against the wall. "It looks like it's all stuck together!"

"It's not," I replied, just managing to keeping my anger in check thanks to the presence of the Galmians. "It comes apart quite easily."

"But—"

"Stop asking so many questions!" I fairly shouted at him, loosing it completely, and then turning away in irritation at the boy and disgust with myself.

The next question died on the prince's lips as I strode toward a man who sat in a curiously carved wooden chair, polishing an axe.

"Quintus!" I greeted, bowing when I reached the man. "How fares the Master of Arms on this fine day?"

The man, tall and lean with short grey hair, stood and bowed in return. Quintus, the Head Armeror in Cair Paravel, was a quiet man with a sharp nose and quick blue eyes that didn't miss much. He had been one of the first men to come to live in the castle after our coronation. So far, I had no complaints against the man. He was a master with the sword, and had a quick wit, and a dry sense of humor to match it.

"The day is fine in my eyes, King Edmund," Quintus replied, smiling dryly, "for there is no serious work to be done."

I groaned and shook my head.

"Really, Quintus. I know you well enough by now to know that you do not shirk from work."

"This may be true, Sire," the old man replied, "but days of rest are just as nice as those spent busily."

I grinned again and nodded, turning back to Prince Eric, and Princess Iliea, ever blushing.

_Is it really a blush, or just a bad sunburn?_

"Quintus, this is Princess Iliea and Prince Eric, the daughter and son of the King of Galma."

Quintus bowed low, bringing Iliea's hand to his lips with a smooth gesture and a smile.

"It is a pleasure to have such a beauty as you, milady, in such an ugly place as this."

_Lion's mane, she's blushing again. _

"You are too kind, Master of Arms."

Then Quintus turned to Eric. He looked him over with a critical eye, taking in every detail.

"But thou, lad…thou lacks something…"

As Eric's eyes lost some of their enthusiasm, I hastily came to the rescue.

"He lacks a sword, Quintus."

Quintus nodded eagerly.

"Aye. That he does."

"I'm to have a Narnian sword?" Eric asked in surprise, his emotionless expression relaxing to show that he was excited.

"Why not?" Quintus said with a shrug. "If thou art training to be a knight, than thou will need a good Narnian sword."

He turned to the wall behind him, which was practically covered with all sorts of weapons.

"Take your pick," the old man said with a smile.

* * *

"What about this one?" I asked, holding up a long, slender sword with a ruby in the hilt.

Eric shook his head.

"I'm sorry, King Edmund," he said with a sigh, "but it's not quite right."

I nodded wearily and put the sword back on the shelf. When Eric had said that he was looking for the perfect sword, I hadn't guessed that he would be so picky. Seventeen swords had made it through his hands and not one had he given even a second glance. Suddenly, the monotonous task was brought to a quick end.

_CRASH!_

The sound shook the hall. Princess Iliea screamed, and Eric and Quintus jumped at the loud noise. I, however, with sinking heart, knew exactly what the sound was.

"Corin!" I shouted angrily, glancing quickly around the hall to locate the source of the noise.

Within seconds, my eyes found the suit of armor, which had previously stood proudly in the hall, and was now facedown on the hard, stone floor. Quickly, I ran over to the fallen armor. Grabbing the connected metal pieces, I hoisted them back up with a grunt. Corin rolled out from under them, and I dropped the heavy suit again.

"What were you doing?" I asked angrily, breathing hard. "Don't you know it's dangerous to play with things you don't know about?"

I glanced at the suit of armor, and my heart skipped a beat at the sight of the large, heavy mace axe that the suit held in its gauntlets.

"You could've been killed!" I thundered.

Corin glared at me. He was holding his left arm tightly against his body, I noticed with growing concern.

"I didn't mean to pull it down on me," Corin shouted angrily. "You told me they came apart!"

With great effort, I forced my anger to subside and knelt beside Corin.

"What's wrong with your arm?"

Corin grimaced and held it out.

"It hit the ground funny when I fell. I…I think it's broken."

I felt and poked along the arm as gently as I could. When I reached the middle of the lower arm, Corin let out a hiss of pain.

"Is this where it hurts?" I asked, touching the place again.

"Yes!" Corin yelped. "Stop!"

I glanced behind me, and noticed Quintus, Eric, and Iliea, all standing over us and watching quietly.

"Do you have any bandages?" I asked quickly.

"Of course, Sire," the Master of Arms replied, turning immediately to retrieve the said object.

With a sigh, I got to my feet, gazing down at Corin with a scowl as my concern drifted back toward anger.

"Bother it all, Corin! Why can't you keep out of trouble for just a few minutes?"

Quintus hurried back with the bandages, and I knelt by Corin again. Eric and Iliea watched in silence.

"I'm not sure I understand what happened," Quintus said, watching me as I unrolled bandages and put them under Corin's arm.

"This, Master Quintus," I said with a quick glare at the boy, "is Prince Corin of Archenland."

I stood up and walked to the wall, ranting and raving all the way.

"If there's _any_ scrape to be got into, in he will get, and come out of it hurt the worst he _possibly_ can. Little…" I searched for the appropriate word to describe Corin. "Little _miscreant_! It's just the way he is…terrible nuisance isn't it?"

I found what I was looking for, and came back, carrying a thin piece as wood, about as long as Corin's forearm.

"Maybe if we threw him in the dungeon _that _would keep him out of trouble. But _then_," I continued angrily, letting out a sigh, "he would just _happen_ to throw a rock at the one weak point in dungeon wall and accidentally bring the entire castle crashing to the ground."

I put the stick on top of the bandages and grabbed Corin's arm, above the broken part with one hand, and below with the other.

"Hold still…this is going to hurt," I muttered, wondering briefly how King Lune would react to the news that his son had broken his arm.

Iliea let out a little wail and turned away.

"I can't bear to watch!"

Corin rolled his eyes at her, but then set his teeth and stared straight ahead.

"Go on, then. I'm ready."

_That's what you think_, I thought, for the first time feeling the slightest twinge of pity for Corin.

With a quick jerk, I twisted Corin's bone back into place.

Instead of screaming at the pain, like I had thought he would, Corin clenched his teeth and took the pain like a man, a low moan the only sound escaping his lips; I knew from personal experiences that his head was swimming with the pain, and his arm was in agony. The boy's eyes filled with tears.

My stomach turned, as it always did when I had to set a broken bone. Years of healing people on the battlefield should've prepared me better, but it never got any easier. That was the usual way of things on the field of battle: I would set the broken bones, and then Lucy would heal them with her cordial. We had learned early on that if you administered the cordial before setting the bone, it wouldn't heal properly. Sometimes, the cordial didn't heal the broken bones at all; it all depended upon how badly the bone was broken.

"I'm sorry, Corin," I said, quickly putting the stick up against the boy's arm and wrapping it tightly with the bandages, forming a splint. "I know it hurts. You handled it well. I've seen grown men cry when their broken bones are set."

_Of course, most men in battle have more than one bone broken, and other wounds besides._

Corin flashed a quick grin, but his merry eyes were thick with pain. His lip was bleeding, probably from where he had bitten it to keep from screaming aloud. I glanced up at Quintus.

"Will you assist Prince Eric further? Prince Corin needs to be taken back to his father's apartments."

"Of course, Sire," Quintus said with a bow.

I rose to my feet, and then prepared to pick Corin up. The boy held up his other hand, the one that wasn't broken.

"Don't…I can walk."

I raised an eyebrow, and watched as Corin stood carefully. The prince tossed his fair hair out of his eyes, and began walking slowly, if a bit shakily, toward the door. With a grin, I followed the prince, shaking my head appreciatively.

_Corin may be a miscreant, but he's definitely a stubborn, brave little miscreant_.

* * *

_**TBC….**_


	6. Fio

_--Chapter 6: Fio--_

King Lune received the news about his son remarkably well. Of course, I realized afterward, this must have been because Corin did things like breaking his arm all the time so it was no significant incident, an idea that made me pity the good King of Archenland. Something else that surprised me was that Lune refused to allow Lucy to give Corin a drop of her cordial to heal his arm. (It was a clean break, and the cordial would very likely have worked.) He said something or other about it 'not being that grievous a wound' and that if Corin kept getting into scrapes, he would have to suffer the full consequences.

The next day I was strangely restless. Peter said I was too snappy to handle our guests, and to my dismay, both my sisters agreed with him. A peaceful nap under the apple trees held no allure for me this morning, though. It was just another way in which Corin had caused trouble for me. Even though he was ill, I was rather annoyed with him.

Perhaps a bit worried too, but more annoyed.

I needn't have been. After about an hour of restlessly pacing the length of the Apple Orchard, I heard shouts from the East Balcony, the one that looks over the sea. Fearing the worst, I took off in that direction, wondering anxiously if Corin could still box and defeat boys his own age—with a broken arm. But when I reached the balcony, I realized, to my ultimate relief, that the sounds were not shouts and cries of pain, but laughter; merry laughter.

Corin stood on the East side of the balcony, so close the sea he could have jumped into its briny depths. He was laughing at a person who was standing just a bit closer inland, a person who had one foot on a barrel, whose back was turned toward me, and who seemed to be saying something to Corin.

As I approached, the lad's bright merry eyes strayed away from the figure. When he saw who I was, his face lit up with a cheery grin not unlike Lucy's, and he rushed forward, nearly tackling me with a warm embrace.

"It's you!" he said, pulling back and allowing me the chance to look him over. "I've been wondering where you were."

He was dressed in the same tunic he had been wearing the day before, or at least a similar one. His arm was still wrapped up tightly with the splint and hung from a sling made of white cloth by his right side. He had a slight bruise on his cheek, most likely from the fight.

I gave the boy a dry smile and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Where have _I_ been? I've been worrying about you all morning in that dreary apple orchard. How long have you been conscious and up?"

"Since this morning, of course," Corin retorted with a glint of mischief. "What's the fun of lying around in bed all day?"

"Your father knows that you're up?"

Corin gave me a curious look, and then looked away.

"I felt better this morning, and he said I was probably all right."

I watched him in silence for a moment. Was he telling the truth? His reluctance to meet my gaze told me not. Before I could remark on this, however, Corin turned back to face the other person.

"Come on. There's someone you need to meet. Her name's Fio, she's a gypsy, and she can juggle; she has three balls and she says she's going to teach me and I can already juggle two at the same time and I only learned this morning."

"Should you really be juggling with a broken arm?" I asked skeptically.

Corin grinned impishly, and I knew that whether he should or shouldn't, it didn't matter because he already had.

A dark shape moved slowly out of the shadows of the balcony. The figure was dressed in mostly dark colors; a dark leather vest on top of a purple blouse completed her top, and, to my surprise, long dark trousers stretched down to meet floppy old boots that must've seen better days. The trousers surprised me because most of the women and girls in Narnia and Archenland—and even Calormen—chose to wear skirts and dresses.

Her hair was pleated in two glossy, dark braids that fell past her shoulders. Covering the rest of her hair was a dark red scarf. A small, circular earring dangled from her right ear.

The girl stepped forward with one hand extended.

"King Edmund, I presume," she said, her voice as rich and enchanting as her dark, dark eyes. "You are a friend of Prince Corin's?"

I glanced over her strange garb again and then took her hand and kissed it politely, bowing slightly in greeting.

"I am. Or rather Corin is a friend of mine."

The girl smiled so that all her white teeth showed. Her face was sun tanned, though not as dark as a Calormene. Her features were delicate, if rather sharp, but mainly it was her eyes that made you look twice. Large, dark eyes that seemed to be shadows themselves, though if you looked hard enough, you could see mischief sparkling in them that was very similar to Corin's.

"My name is Fiona, but everyone calls me 'Fio'," the girl explained, glancing at Corin quickly. "My Uncle's caravan is visiting from Terabinthia. He is of a noble house and brought letters of introduction from the Duke to your High King."

I nodded, my qualms soothed for the moment. She was Terabinthian, not Calormene. Dark or tanned skin ran in the blood of both races, though Terabinthians were usually lighter of skin and sharper of feature, as proved true on Fiona.

"Welcome to Cair Paravel, my lady," I remarked, stifling a sigh at how familiar that phrase was becoming. "I hope you are enjoying your stay at present?"

The girl watched me with an amused look, as if she could read how annoyed I was at having so many visitors, and then glanced off at the sea.

"Tis truly a magnificent place, but," she cast a sly look at me, "have you any idea how dreary it can be here when one is alone, King Edmund?"

I raised an eyebrow and opened my mouth to reply that I didn't know what in Narnia she meant, but then happened to glance down at Corin. I remembered the morning's restless pacing, and suddenly changed my mind.

"It can be a _bit_ boring without someone to liven things up," I replied, tousling the prince's fair hair and leaning back against the banister. "How did you arrive from Terabinthia, milady?"

Fio gave me strange look.

"How else than by ship, your highness. And, if you please, call me Fio; not 'milady'. I detest formality."

I grinned at her, and then inclined my head to one side.

"Then I am Edmund, and not 'your highness'."

The girl nodded in agreement with a rather roguish grin, and Corin gave both of us an impatient smile.

"Now that we're through with introductions, will you juggle again, Fio?"

The gypsy girl nodded. She cast a quick look at her hands, and then carefully tossed a bright red juggling ball into the air. The first ball was followed by two more, until Fio was expertly juggling the three balls that seemed to leap from hand to hand. I watched with interest; this was one skill I had not even tried to learn, as I was not terribly clever with my hands. Unfortunately, Corin noticed the look on my face, and gave the gypsy girl an excited smile.

"Do you think you can teach _Edmund_ how to juggle?"

The girl's eyes sparkled impishly, and she turned toward me, catching all the balls slowly and holding them out.

"Um…no thanks," I murmured, backing away slowly. "I'd really rather not—"

"Oh come on, Ed," Corin said, stepping behind me and pushing me forward. "Just try it!"

I gave the red balls another look, and then shook my head warily.

"Corin, I'd _really_ rather not!"

Corin stood on his tip toes and gazed up at me with that blasted incorrigible grin of his and said:

"You're not _afraid_ to try, are you?"

My eyes narrowed out of habit, and I gave the boy a glare, though inwardly I was sighing wearily. Of course he _had _to use that line in front of a girl. A girl who now watched with dark eyes glinting with the same mischief that was in Corin's blue ones.

I sighed and threw up my hands. How could I refuse?

"Give me the little buggers," I ordered, reaching for the juggling balls. "I'll have you know that I _have_ juggled before, Corin. Actually, Su can juggle better than any of us. She's tried to teach us on occasion."

"Queen Susan?"

The look of disbelief in the lad's face made me want to laugh. He obviously couldn't imagine my majestic, stately sister doing such a playful thing as juggling. But I could. And I had purposefully neglected to tell the prince that whenever Susan had tried to teach us to juggle, she always quit out of exasperation when it reached my turn. Because when I threw the balls up into the air, they usually came down and landed everywhere except in my hands.

Fio handed me two red orbs, but withheld the third.

"You should begin with two," she told me, expression a bit sterner now that she was teaching me something. "Are you right handed?"

"Left."

"Then put the first ball in your left hand and the second in your right. Now, throw the ball up with your left hand, and switch your right hand ball under to your left hand."

I performed the action rather clumsily, but fairly well considering I had never even gotten that far before. Fio watched me approvingly.

"Right. Now do it again, and keep going if you can."

In fifteen minutes, I was able to slowly juggle two balls from hand to hand. Then Corin decided that it was too easy for me.

"Make him do it with three balls," he begged, hopping up and down as he watched me squirm.

"Hey…" I caught the two balls that had been in the air and turned to him angrily. "Look, your highness. I've done what you wanted—I juggled. Now isn't that enough?"

Corin gave me a pleading look, and then smiled slowly.

"But you were having fun, weren't you?"

It was true. I thought about it for a moment. I _was_ having fun. Fio was a good teacher, and I had learned more easily from her than I had from Susan. Perhaps it was because Fio wasn't a bossy older sister. Corin's eyes sparkled merrily, and he added:

"Besides…I want to see you make a mistake for once."

Fio shrugged, tossing me the third ball.

"It's only fair. Corin messed up quite a bit when he was learning."

"Well Corin isn't the King of Narnia, is he?"

The words were out before I could stop them. A moment later, a dark expression crossed Fio's face, and her eyes lost some of their luster.

"My apologies, _your Majesty_," she remarked, putting an emphasis on my title. "I didn't realize that royal persons weren't allowed to make mistakes. I suppose that's just another way you're better than the rest of us."

She grabbed for the juggling balls, but I managed to keep hold of them, stumbling back in astonishment.

"Wait. I didn't mean it, Fio; I'm sorry."

As I heard the plea, I realized that I sounded like a child again. So much for being a 'great King of Narnia' who doesn't make mistakes.

"It's not that we don't make mistakes…" I dodged a grab at the balls and spun away, tossing two of them to Corin.

He promptly handed them to Fio.

_Traitor_.

I gave him a quick glare, but then focused my attention on the angry gypsy girl who was rapidly approaching. Somehow, something told me that keeping her ball from her wasn't helping. I held it out to her reluctantly. Instantly she pounced forward and snatched it away, stowing it in her pocket with her other juggling balls.

"Please don't, go, milady," I pleaded, stepping forward and putting a hand on her arm. "I didn't mean to say it. And I didn't mean it either. I just…"

To my relief, Fio stopped and was watching me with sharp eyes. At last, she raised an eyebrow, and then nodded slowly.

"I'll stay…as long as you try to juggle with three balls."

I groaned and nodded wearily. Who did I think I was, trying to go up against masterminds like Fio and Corin? I grabbed the juggling balls, and tossed all three of them in the air at once. As expected, they all fell down at once, missing my hands completely. One of them hit Corin in the head.

"There. I told you I was no good with three."

There was silence for a moment. Then Corin burst out laughing, and I began to grin. Fio soon joined our laugher, and the tension was past—gone like it had never existed.

* * *

**_TBC...._**


	7. The Ball: Part 1

_--Chapter 7: The Ball: Part 1--_

I spent the better part of the day with Corin and Fio. It was curiously relaxing; just allowing myself to sit on the beach or in the gardens and talk about nothing. More relaxing, almost, than a nap.

Almost.

But—alas!—all good things must come to an end. This day of leisure ended for me at three in the afternoon when Susan searched me out to help organize the colossal ball our court was planning for the formal celebration of the arrival of the Galmian party. Only Aslan knows why Susan came to _me_ to help with the ball. Ordinarily I would be the very last person she would go to for assistance in that fashion, but, according to what she said, Peter was busy with matters of state, Lucy was off goodness knows where doing something that doubtlessly held the balance of the kingdom in check, and—most importantly—Su's chief advisor was down with the flu.

The rest of the day was a haze of menus and appetizers and clean goblets for the punch table, but eventually everything was ready. I must admit that when Peter entered the ball room with Susan a few steps behind, the look in his eyes was more than enough to uplift my disgruntled spirits.

The courtiers went to their stations and the musicians began to play. Lucy turned up at the last possible moment, laughingly beautiful, as always; and so it was that we, the two kings and two queens of Narnia, waited in the ballroom to welcome our guests.

We did not have long to wait; as soon as the clock struck seven, the guests streamed through the doors one by one, and then more quickly. I bowed and nodded and smiled and shook hands more times than one should have to in one evening, but at last, when everyone had been announced and was accounted for, the musicians struck up a song, and the first dance began.

Quite frankly, I hated Su's balls, and had always, since I could remember, counted down every minute until the last dance was through and it was time to collapse onto a soft, comfortable bed somewhere where I could be alone at last.

Tonight was no different. Susan had prepared a stiff, uncomfortable, and otherwise loathsome suit for me to wear. It made of red and brown and cream-colored stuff, and Su said it made me look more dashing than a regular dress-tunic would—exactly the opposite of what I really cared about: comfort.

I figured if it was uncomfortable enough to make me hate the entire evening, it wasn't worth wearing, even if I looked like the son of a sultan. I told her so, too. She merely laughed and ordered the servants to remove all my other tunics from my wardrobe so that it was the only thing I had to wear.

And it wasn't as though I could just _not attend_ the ball. If I wasn't there, it might spark a diplomatic incident that would keep us in a war—or at _least_ constant hostility—with the Galmians for _ages_. In the end, I wore the suit, but that evening I shot Susan a vengeful glare every chance I got.

When the first dance was called, Susan nearly shoved a girl into my arms, a certain Lady Claudia of Galma—one of Iliea's friends, I had no doubt, for she giggled and blushed and batted her eyelashes something terrible.

After three dances I managed to escape from Lady Claudia, kissing her hand as I bowed away to appease her feminine whims and hopefully to keep her from following me around. I then made my way to the punch table, darting looks over my shoulder the whole way for fear she—or Susan—was following me. I reached it at last, sighing in relief as I sank into a chair that rested in the shadows.

After a moment of glorying in my escape, I surveyed the ballroom, eventually catching sight of the three other members of my family. Lucy was easiest to see, chatting contentedly with Cook's nephew…Geoffrey, it was? Peter was on the floor, dancing with Princess Iliea, and wearing his finest court expression—one that masked his real thoughts perfectly. Susan was laughing gaily on the other end of the room, Lord Col on one side and a young man I had never seen before—presumably a noble from the Galmian party—on her other side.

I glanced at the crystal goblets that sat on the punch table. The punch had already been poured, but the wine had not yet arrived. When it did, it would be poured from pitchers carried by servants—trustworthy servants. I couldn't help but wonder if it had already been poisoned. Or if, perhaps, the punch had been poisoned. I locked eyes with Lucy, and she nodded seriously as she met my gaze, as if to reassure me that she had her cordial. I nodded in return and jerked my head at Peter, who was now smiling at Lady Iliea, much to my disgust. He wasn't the least bit worried, and even if he was, he wouldn't show it. Not in public like this.

"Do you not care for dancing, King Edmund?"

I started at the voice of Prince Eric from my right side. From the tone of his voice, I gathered that he shared my feelings about dancing and balls. I grinned and shook my head.

"Susan is the only one of us that really belongs in a ballroom."

"Oh?' Eric raised an eyebrow in interest. "What do you mean?"

"Well," I began, leaning back against the wall and watching my graceful sister as she danced with the strange young nobleman I had noticed before, "Susan feels at home at parties or balls. Peter prefers hunting or fields of combat. Lucy is better off in flowery glades or sailing into the sunset on the Splendor Hyaline; among the charms of nature, she says."

"And you?" Eric asked, crossing his arms and looking remarkably interested.

"Give me a quiet library or sleepy orchard and I could live forever in bliss," I replied, sighing as I cast a weary gaze across the vibrant colors and busy scene before me.

With a laugh, Prince Eric gestured toward his sister, who was just now parting with the High King and sitting down for a rest.

"Iliea would have me dance my shoes thin, but I prefer much the same as you and your brother. I would spend my days hunting or fishing, if my father would allow it so. Not busily among so many people."

"You and I are of the same mind, then," I added with a grin. It was always refreshing to find someone else who wasn't interested in balls and young ladies—and all that rot.

A servant—a boy called Darm—approached with a pitcher of wine. Darm was a bright Narnian boy, an orphan who had been brought to live in the castle the year after I and my siblings assumed the roles of rulers of Narnia. I had met him last year, and had been so impressed with his quick thinking and reasoning that I resolved—though secretly—to make an educated noble out of him. That made him a student of sorts, but he was also a sort of spy for me in the Cair. I had many spies, as was needed in the effort to uphold justice, though up till now it had been nothing more than a game.

This, however, was beginning to look like a dangerous game. I gave him a questioning glance, and he shrugged. I held out my goblet, and as he poured, I whispered, "Is it safe?"

Darm nodded—obviously having heard about the poisoning.

"Yes. Cook had each pitcher tasted separately to be sure. It's quite safe."

I thanked him with a grateful look, and he continued around the ballroom, pouring the red, Narnian wine into the crystal goblets with smooth, even motions. I watched him for a moment more, and then turned back to Prince Eric to talk more of hunting and the sea.

* * *

_**TBC….**_


	8. The Ball: Part 2

_--Chapter 8: The Ball: Part 2--_

To my surprise, the entire evening passed without incident. In fact, it was such an extraordinarily _ordinary_ ball that near the middle of it, I was practically _hoping_ for someone to crumple from poison. But fortunately, my boredom was not everlasting. After what seemed like ages of waiting, a tall man caught my eye.

He looked like a Calormen—which was the reason I paid him any mind at all. His hair and skin were dark, but after studying him carefully, I realized that it was several shades lighter than that of Lord Irwin. Curious, I managed to get closer to the man. When I heard him speak, everything became clear; for his accent was that of a Terabinthian! I let out a sigh of disappointment, and made to return to my quiet corner. However, in my turning, I ran headlong into the person beside me in the crowded room, who tripped and fell to the ground.

"Lion's mane, I _am_ sorry!" I knelt to help the person to her feet, and found myself staring into a pair of furious eyes, darker than shadows. Fio.

Recognition replaced the anger in her gaze, and after a moment, she grinned.

"Imagine meeting _you_ in a place like this. And it's not really your fault I fell—I can't move an inch in these blasted slippers without tripping."

As I was helping her to her feet, the dark man I had been watching turned our way and spied out the incident.

"Fiona, my niece! Who is this ruffian, this prince of rascals, eh?" he asked in a deep, dramatic voice, stepping our way with malice in his gaze. His eyes, I noticed, were as dark as Fio's. Perhaps darker.

"Uncle Kader, he's not a ruffian," Fio protested, directing a disgusted glance toward her skirts as she dusted them off, and then giving the man a significant look, "nor a prince of rascals, though he is, indeed, royalty. This is King Edmund the Just."

The man's eyebrows shot up as he studied me carefully.

"My apologies, your Majesty," he said, sweeping a low, theatrical bow. "I meant no offense; only the wellbeing of my only niece, whose father and mother are long since gone of this world."

"None taken," I replied, nodding my head in return to his apology. "Might I inquire as to your name?"

The man straightened, and I could see his features easily under the strong light of the ballroom chandelier. His face was that of a middle-aged man, a man of courage and honesty, but also of cunning and recklessness. He would've made an excellent pirate in the cinemas.

"I am Kader, Lord under His Majesty King Fairron of Terabinthia, and uncle of this, my wayward niece Fiona. I see, from your faces, that you have already met? Perhaps she has shown you her flying crimson orbs, eh?"

My face flushed with the memory, and Lord Kader let out a roar of laughter.

"Yes, young sire, Fio told me of your meeting. Keep up the practice and you will do well as a juggler. Perhaps, if you ever grow good enough," he gave me a curious glance, "you might perform in the great hall of Terabinthia, should you chance to visit."

I shrugged and smiled in return.

"Perhaps, my lord. I fear that it will take a great load of practice to transform _me_ into a juggler."

Kader laughed again and shook his head.

"Tell that to my niece. She told me she was determined to make a juggler out of you, if it was the last thing she ever did."

I looked at Fio, and she nodded stoutly.

"Someone's got to do it," she put in with a smile. "Whatever would happen if word got out that I tried to teach the King of Narnia to juggle and failed? 'Twould be a horrid story to have told around the campfire: 'the King Who Could Not Juggle'."

Kader and I both burst out with merry laughter. Fio smiled at her own jest, but then looked away with a frown.

"Ah, Fio," Kader said after wiping tears from his eyes, "enjoy yourself tonight. I know that you'll be in good hands."

As her uncle turned to join the crowd of dancers, I barely heard Fio's muttered, "I can take care of myself."

She looked up at me, and blushed as she saw that I had heard.

"Do not mistake me, I love my uncle. He is a magnificent man, but he can be a bit..."

"Protective? Suffocating?" I supplied. Fio nodded.

"Not to mention melodramatic. As a matter of fact," she added, wrinkling her nose and looking down, "I'd rather not have come at all tonight. I hate dressing up for things like this. I don't belong at balls or formal occasions. My place is at sea, or in the shadows with my juggling balls. Truly," she said with a wry smile, "the only balls I enjoy are the ones I can juggle."

I let out a short laugh and shook my head.

"I share your opinion, lady. Indeed, I would rather not have come tonight as well, but in the place of your uncle was my sister, Susan."

"Queen Susan made you come?" Fio asked with a smile.

I nodded. Fio looked away from me, around at the crowds of people.

"I have not met your older sister," she said after a moment. "Actually you're the only one I've met."

"Would you like me to introduce you to her?" I asked spur-of-the-moment, not thinking about what I was doing, and then realizing just as soon as the words were out of my mouth that that would mean coming into sight of Susan, who would insist upon finding me another dancing partner, or perhaps—Aslan _forbid_—Lady Claudia again.

However, oblivious of my internal strife, Fio smiled and nodded excitedly, eyes flashing.

"I should be honored to meet the woman who induced you to attend the ball. It must've been a great work indeed, stubborn as you are."

I frowned and looked away. So _that_ was her reason. I should've known

"Not so great as you might think. And as a matter of fact, I came of my own free will. It was her idea to make me wear this—" I gestured to the horrid suit I was wearing, and Fio burst out with a laugh.

"Then we are of the same mind as to the loathsomeness of court clothes as well! But come," she put a hand on my arm and tugged me toward the dance floor, "let me meet your sister."

Gritting my teeth and preparing for what would likely end in another dance with Lady Claudia, I strode forward to where my sister, Susan, was standing. Each step seemed to fall more and more heavily on the wooden boards of the ballroom floor, but when I at last reached Susan, I was resigned to my fate.

"Why, Edmund!" my sister exclaimed with a bright—if somewhat suspicious—smile. "I have not seen you on the floor these last seven dances!"

"I was otherwise occupied, Queen Susan." I left a note of warning in my voice to reassure that she wouldn't press the point, and then turned to look at the young gentlemen who flanked her, one on either side.

"Hullo, Col," I said, recognizing the fair haired man on Susan's left. "Beautiful full moon out tonight, isn't there?"

Lord Col bowed in greeting, and then gave me a grateful smile. He was one of our youngest sea captains, but a fine hand at the helm in a tight spot. His fascination—other than my sister, of course—was the art of astronomy, which he never failed to bring up in a conversation.

"Indeed, King Edmund. 'Twould be a lovely night to sail up the Great River, were it not for pleasanter activities."

He glanced at Susan and then gave me a meaningful look. I understood at once. Poor Col was having trouble tonight thanks to this new noble from Galma. I grinned, and then shrugged helplessly. He sighed and looked away in disappointment.

"Who is your other friend, Susan?"

Susan's face was practically glowing as she glanced at the man on her right side.

"This is Lord Ther, a new noble under King Gavin of Galma. Lord Ther, my royal brother, King Edmund the Just."

As Lord Ther bowed deeply, I studied his face. He had darker features than Col, and his hair was jet black, combed smoothly away from his face. His cashmere tunic was colored dark green and a fine cream-white; his black boots were polished to perfection. I figured that Susan thought him _quite_ dashing.

"A pleasure, Lord Ther," I said, nodding my head in welcome.

He nodded in return.

"The pleasure is mine, your Majesty. Your royal sister has been most gracious to allow a mere new noble as I the honor of her company. I trust you do not disapprove?"

"My sister's companions are her own affair," I replied, my words careful, and not revealing that Peter and I did some deep conversing on whether a certain 'companion' needed to be removed from Susan's presence or not. "As it is, welcome to Cair Paravel. I trust you have enjoyed your stay?"

"It has been most satisfactory, sire."

I knew, as he spoke this final sentence, that Lord Ther was a 'slippery eel to manage', as the Marsh-wiggles' colloquialism goes. He was too smooth with his words for me to trust what he said. And I saw by the look in Susan's eyes that she had reached the same conclusion. She gave me a half smile when I met her gaze, as if to say, 'Come now, Ed. I'm not quite so much of a fool as you think me.'

Fio cleared her throat from behind me, and I suddenly remembered the true meaning of this conversation.

"Ah, yes. Fio, this is my sister, Queen Susan. Susan, this is—"

"Fiona of Terabinthia," Fio finished for me. "I am the niece of Lord Kader, noble to King Fairron, and daughter to Jacques the Minstrel."

Susan and Col both gasped, and Lord Ther looked surprised. I turned to look at my friend with an air of astonished indignation.

"You're _what_?!"

* * *

_**TBC….**_

* * *

**A/N: I just realized that I haven't 'replied' to any of my anonymous reviewers. My apologies, for your reviews are just as meaningful as those of the ones from other members (or people who have signed in).**

**Anony'mouse'**: I can't tell you how much I appreciate your constant reviewing! Your enthusiasm inspires me, and makes me want to post the next chapters immediately...*sigh* So, _really_, thank you.

**Hello**: If I encountered a talking squirrel, I would greet in the traditional Narnian fashion (which I have yet to figure out) and ask if it knew the way to Rivendell in Elvish. ;) Well...or maybe I'd just stare for a while. ;)

**And special thanks to all my other reviewers as well! You've been such an encouragement...really. ;) So, yet again, my thanks and profound appreciation.**


	9. The Ball: Part 3

**A/N: And so the plot thickens...just a quick note so you won't be turned off by this chapter. There is NOT going to be a romance between Ed and Fio. Just friendship, thanks. ;) I considered doing differently, but Edmund would've run me through himself if I'd done an OC romance. I mean, honestly... Enjoy. Please review!! :)**

* * *

_--Chapter 9: The Ball: Part 3--_

Susan and Col both gasped, and Lord Ther looked surprised. I turned to look at my friend with an air of astonished indignation.

"You're _what_?!"

Jacques the Minstrel was _renowned_ as the most famous of ballad writers in all of Narnia, Archenland, Calormen, and the Islands. He had composed and sung _dozens_ of musical works, including "The Lay of Fair Olvin and Pire" and "Gale and the Dragon", the most popular of any ballads at the court of Cair Paravel.

And to learn that Fio was his daughter…I was stunned—and a little in awe. Jacques had been the King of Bards…that made Fio a sort of…well, Bard Princess, if there was such a position.

Fio gave me a look that shut me up before another word escaped my gaping mouth. I recovered as she continued.

"My father, most regrettably, has passed beyond this world. Therefore, I have come to the court where my father once sang to perform in his honor."

"You would be most welcome to do so," Susan replied, her eyes wide and the look on her face still one of amazement, though it was rapidly disappearing as she, too, recovered from the surprise. "Our memories of Jacques are fond, and we are most grieved to learn of his death."

A shadow passed over Fio's face, and she bent her head in sadness.

"'Twas a bloody business. Mayhap I will sing the tale of his fate, if it please you, Majesty."

"Whenever you feel the time has come, do not hesitate in beginning," Susan replied eagerly. "Tell the musicians who you are. They will do your bidding without a moment's hesitation."

"My thanks, Majesty," Fio finished, bowing low.

Susan turned my way and gave me a significant glance.

"At last you've found a suitable companion, eh, Ed? Has he asked you for a dance?" she asked, this last part directed to Fio.

I choked on my laughter at the absurd idea of asking Fio to dance, and coughed to cover it up, turning rather red in the attempt. That would be like…like asking _Corin_ to dance!

"Su—"

"Not as of yet, Majesty," Fio said smoothly, mischief glinting in her eyes when she turned to glance at me. "But we have not long been in company."

"Well then _ask_ her, Ed! Lion _knows_ the ball is half over already." Susan added with a giggle, noticing my discomfort, "Yes, I've seen you lurking in your corner. It's high time you found a pretty girl to befriend. Now dance, brother, or I'll find Lady Claudia again!"

In view of that threat, I turned and marched toward the dance floor with Fio in tow, my face flushed quite red, no doubt. When the music began, I took Fio's hand in mine, but refused to look at her. I was sure she was laughing, and at last, when I could bear it no longer, I glanced down and saw that I was quite right.

"Is this your revenge for earlier today, when I wouldn't juggle with three balls?" I asked, finally voicing my thoughts.

Fio snorted—not giggled, praise the Lion!

"I suppose you could call it that. One dance should cause enough embarrassment for you. After that, we can go sit down somewhere and talk about juggling, or ballads, or that strange Lord Ther and what he's really up to."

I halted in surprise, but then continued in the dance when I saw how awkward it would be to just stand there with everyone dancing around us.

"Do you know something about Lord Ther?" I murmured, loud enough so that only she could hear it.

"I know he's quite suspicious looking. I don't know why your sister enjoys being surrounded by such men. I mean, Lord Col is one thing, but Ther…" Fio's dark eyes glanced back toward my sister and her companions, and a tremor passed through her lithe body, "somehow, Ther _frightens_ me."

"I'm not certain he's enough to be frightened of," I said, glancing that way too, "but I somehow doubt he'll be going anywhere with my sister. See?"

I gestured toward Peter, who was also on the dance floor with Iliea in his arms. He was watching Susan as she laughed at one of Lord Ther's jests with a cautious look in his eyes. Fio followed my gaze, and a smile lit up her face.

"Now I understand. Your sister is lucky to have two brothers to guard her honor."

As I watched Fio's face, Susan's parting comment echoed through my mind: "It's high time you found a pretty girl to befriend." Fio's eyes gleamed like shadows, and her face, though tanned by sun and the briny wind, was flushed prettily. Her dress, which I had failed to notice before, was a dark crimson, which made her skin look more exotic than before.

Her hair, which had been in braids earlier that day, was now pinned back so that it fell in simple curls down her back. She truly was, I realized, a pretty girl.

But the more I studied her face, the more I knew that I would never like her in _that _way. She was a friend; nothing more, nothing less. Things were so much simpler that way.

Suddenly, the dance ended, and Fio dropped a step back and stretched her arms.

"'Twas a pleasure to dance with you, King Edmund," she said with a smile. "I hope it did not cause you too much embarrassment."

"None at all, for the moment," I retorted. "Though I'm sure tongues will be wagging tomorrow about it."

"That's part of the revenge, of course," Fio replied with a mischievous look. "Meanwhile, I believe the time has come for a ballad."

She undid the waist of her skirt, and revealed, underneath, a minstrel's skirt colored crimson and purple. Then she removed the first layer of her bodice to reveal a tunic of the same color.

"Find yourself a good seat," she said with a grin. "Tonight's show will be like no other since my father attended this court seven years ago. 'Twill be a show to die for."

And with that, she slipped through the crowd toward the musicians. Little did she know the prophetic depth of her words. I watched her for a second, and then began the return journey to my corner and the chair I had left there.

When I reached my seat, however, it was occupied. Princess Iliea was stoking her crystal goblet and gazing across the ballroom as if she was looking for someone. Peter had found two other chairs from somewhere, and was sitting in the one next to Iliea. I was about to turn and find somewhere else to sit, but when Peter glimpsed me, his face lit up so that I knew there was no escape.

"Edmund! I've hardly seen you all evening!"

"Indeed, brother," I replied with a grin. "You seem to have been somewhat…engaged."

Peter winced ever so slightly at the pun, and my grin must've doubled in size. He hated the whole 'fair princess' business more than I hated to dance. He was a brick, going through with it to keep a diplomatic incident as far away as possible. I leaned against the wall next to his chair, sighing and staring out across the crowd of bright colors with weary eyes.

"Good evening, King Edmund," Princess Iliea said, bestowing upon me a dazzling smile.

Her eyes were exactly the same color as sapphires, though a hint of gold sparkled in them, and her gleaming golden hair was pinned up in a complicated mess of braids and curls. Diamond earrings hung from her ears. She wore a dress of light red—closer to pink than red, though. I shuddered.

It was fascinating, really, that a young lady so perfect could be in love with my brother. Peter wasn't exactly Prince Charming (or King Charming, whichever you prefer), not that any of the young ladies noticed. But honestly, Iliea was almost too perfect; too beautiful to be any good at anything. She would look good on a throne next to Peter of course, but try getting her to go hunting or talk to an ambassador, and she'd probably give a blank stare, or faint, or something of that sort.

No, I found myself thinking, give me a girl who'd follow me into battle and could defeat me in an argument. That's the sort of girl I'd not mind dancing with.

"Are you enjoying the evening, Edmund?" Peter asked, taking a sip from his goblet. I counted to five, watching him carefully, and then, satisfied that he was not about to slump over, poisoned, shrugged carelessly.

"As much as it can be enjoyed, I suppose," I told him. He caught the meaning in my voice at once and— in spite of his own trials with Iliea—had the grace to grin compassionately.

"Su made you wear that suit after all, didn't she?"

I glared and then looked away while Peter struggled to keep from laughing. Lord Irwin approached us from the dance floor. His face was stern, as it had been the previous time I saw him, and he, too, carried a crystal goblet.

"Milady," he said, bowing to Iliea, and then greeting Peter and me as well. "Might I join you? I believe some festivities are about to begin."

"Yes," I said, suddenly standing straight up as Irwin sank down into the chair on the other side of Peter. "Fio…er, a minstrel's daughter is going to sing a ballad. There…she's just spoken to the musicians."

Peter craned his neck, and then groaned.

"Bother. Su is signaling anxiously for me to join her. Has something that can't wait another second, like as not." He handed me his goblet without so much as giving me a second glance, and then kissed Iliea's hand gallantly. "I shall return, milady."

As Peter strode away, I sat down in his char, staring at the goblet he had left me with a dull hatred of the Princess Iliea growing in my heart. What if she did marry Peter? I couldn't _bear_ to have her around the Cair forever. Perhaps Lucy and I could come up with some scheme to get rid of her, like we sometimes had with Susan's suitors.

"Psst."

I started, almost spilling Peter's wine as a sharp sound came from behind me. I turned and caught sight of a hand waving frantically from behind a curtain. I stood carefully, being in between Iliea and Irwin, and set Peter's goblet down on my chair.

"Excuse me for a moment, Princess; Chancellor."

Then, as quickly as I could manage, I slid behind the curtain from whence the fingers had waved. While my eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, a hand reached out and grabbed my arm. I jumped back, but then the curtain parted just enough to reveal my attacker's face.

"Prince Corin?!'

It was, indeed, the prince. He sneezed in reply to my question, and then asked,

"Don't your servants _ever_ dust back here?"

"Ask Susan sometime. She'd be the one to know. Actually, no one ever _comes_ back here." I gave him a curious look. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Corin paused, and then sighed. "Father said I couldn't come to the ball because of all the mischief I've been getting into. So I thought that even if I couldn't _come_ to the ball, I could still _watch_ the ball."

"Corin—"

"I saw you dancing with Fio. She's lovely, isn't she? I like her better in her gypsy clothes, though, don't you?"

"_Corin_—"

"But who was that _horrid_ girl you danced with before? She was _awfully_ ugly. And her dress was so pink—_ugh_!"

"Corin, if your father doesn't want you here, than you should return to your room," I said quickly so he wouldn't interrupt me again.

A dismayed look crossed the boy's face which was quickly replaced by a baleful glare.

"And here I thought that you were my friend. I don't _want_ to go back—"

I stopped him with a sudden, "Sssh," for the music was starting up again in the ballroom. Corin's eyes lit up, and he gave me a pleading look.

"It's Fio, isn't it? Can I please, _please_ watch just this one song? I'll go back to my room _directly_ _afterward_ —I promise, and I won't get into _any_ trouble for…for as long as I can help it! _Please_??!!!"

"All right," I relented after a moment's hesitation. "Just don't mention _my_ name when your father asks what you've been up to. And _do_ stay hidden."

With that, I left the curtained-off alcove and found my seat again. I picked up the goblet and sank down into the chair with a weary sigh.

"Whatever is the matter?" Iliea asked, in a voice that betrayed no concern whatsoever.

I glanced her way to answer, and saw, standing behind her, the young man whom my dear sister Susan had been so entranced with: Lord Ther. I gave him a nod of welcome, which he returned casually, almost lazily.

Before I had time to answer Lady Iliea's question, a clear voice rang out in the hall, flowing along with the music. My searching eyes found the slender, purple-and-crimson figure near the musicians, and I forgot completely about answering. Fio's voice rose high and solemn, as she sang the ballad of her father's last voyage.

"In days of yore a minstrel bold

Took up his harp and sang of old

Of kings, and maids, and shields of gold

Oh, sing to me of the sea!

No finer bard of olden day

With harp of wood did somber play.

In peace he went his lonely way.

Oh, sing to me of the sea!

A maiden fair along the way

Beheld his song, and begged him stay

He did, and soon were married they

Oh, sing to me of the sea!

One child was born to Jacques, a son

A daughter, too, 'fore all was done

For happy years the four lived on

Oh, sing to me of the sea!

At last, alas, the minstrel's song

Mishapen from disuse so long

Struck Jacques heart as like a gong

Oh, sing to me of the sea!

His wife and children could not stay

The yearning song his heart did play

He left them one September day

Oh, sing to me of the sea!

Twas fate that brought him to the sea

E'en though a sailing man was he

The waves bore forth his destiny.

Oh, sing to me of the sea!

Twas on the ship called _Brigand's Doom_

A name both bold and opportune.

It sailed beneath a waning moon.

Oh, sing to me of the sea!

And _Brigand's Doom_ did brigands fetch

From far and wide; they hoped to catch

A purse of gold from some poor wretch.

Oh, sing to me of the sea!

The pirates set upon the boat

And swung aboard, cutlasses out

Our bard dealt many a heavy stroke

Oh, sing to me of the sea!

As courage counts when size does not

And fear is like a sailor's knot

'gainst man and fate the minstrel fought.

Oh, sing to me of the sea!"

Fio's lovely voice soared as she reached the crescendo of her ballad. Casually, I took a drink from Peter's goblet. The musicians had played their best tonight, but this song outdid every other selection. The music lilted along with the sorrowful words with a mournful kind of longing, one that twisted in my heart like an arrow.

But as Fio neared the end of her ballad, the music grew softer, and my senses, which had been on the alert all day, suddenly slowed. I yawned, feeling abruptly quite very tired. After all, it had been an extraordinarily long day, what with preparations for the ball and everything. But then, as Fio finished her song, and I struggled to keep my eyes open, I sensed that something was not quite right.

"And now, perhaps, for a merrier song. Mayhap, 'The King Who Could Not Juggle?"

Fio turned to where I sat with a wicked smile, but her face changed as soon as she saw me.

"King Edmund?"

I did not answer, for her voice and all the world around faded away into the blackness of insensibility, and I slumped, unconscious, to the floor.

* * *

_**TBC….**_


	10. Poisoned

**A/N: I'm posting this on Thursday night instead of on Friday for my dear friend Queen Su, who is leaving for Europe tomorrow and wouldn't be able to read this next chapter. The things I do for my friends. ;) Again, I want to thank everybody for the wonderful response to the last chapter. Maybe I should have a cliffhanger at the end of every chapter, eh? ;) And now, without further ado...**

* * *

_--Chapter 10: Poisoned--_

_Cold. So cold. Ice. Snow. So cold. Freezing. Can't move. So cold. So alone._

Crying. Sounds of sobbing hacked into peaceful, horrible silence like butcher knives.

"Stop that noise at once."

_It's not me. I'm not crying. I wish whoever it is would stop. It makes my head ache..._

Every now and again I could hear voices.

"Idiot," someone said in a low, hushed voice. "That's the wrong one."

"My apologies," said the voice of someone else. "It was my fault entirely."

There was a fuzzy light in front of my eyes. It came closer, but then retreated, and then came closer again. Every time it reappeared, I heard anew the sobbing sound, as well as voices. They made my head spin, for I couldn't see anything clearly. Only a haze of light and darkness.

"There! He'll be all right now."

A sweet taste in my mouth. I could feel it sliding down my throat, warm and life-giving in the cold. I heard a thump. Then another. And another.

_Is that my heartbeat? Did it stop? What in Narnia is going on?_

Slowly, the fuzzy light grew closer again. This time it did not retreat. My lungs begged for air. I opened my mouth and breathed so deeply I thought they would burst. Air —sweet Narnian air!—filled my lungs. Someone cried out. I flinched.

At last, my eyes opened. There were so many faces above me that I could hardly pick out any single person, for they all blurred together.

"Oh Edmund!"

A little blur flung itself forward and hugged me tightly. I touched the figure's head, and saw by the long, loose golden hair that this was Lucy. Looking up, I saw Peter and Susan hovering over me but not daring to embrace me so freely in front of so many people.

"Is all well, with you, brother?" Peter asked, his voice betraying the fact that there were a million other things he would rather have asked.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my tongue seemed to have swelled horribly. My throat felt as dry as the southern desert. Not trusting my own voice, I simply nodded. Peter released his court poise for the briefest of moments as a huge sigh of relief escaped him. Seconds later, however, he was back as the composed High King Peter.

"We fear the food has not agreed with you. Darm will escort you to the infirmary to ensure your quick recovery."

I nodded wordlessly again. Darm appeared at my elbow, and the guests who had been gathered around began returning to where they had been before my interruption, muttering and conversing in low, worried tones. I could've sworn I saw a flash of crimson, but in half a second it was gone.

I managed to stand tall and appear as kingly as possible as I exited the ballroom, but once we were in the hall away from the crowds of staring visitors, I stumbled and fell heavily against the wall. Darm's worried face appeared before mine, and I croaked, "Water," as clearly as I could. Darm disappeared, and then returned seconds later, holding a goblet filled with the clear liquid. I lifted it to my lips without hesitation, and tears of relief filled my eyes as the cool water soothed my parched throat.

As I set the glass down on a nearby table, I turned to see Darm shaking his head.

"What's wrong?" I asked, wiping my mouth with one hand and staggering forward.

Darm took hold of my arm and helped me toward the infirmary.

"I'm afraid the High King was right. He told me to have some water on hand—in case…"

I stopped dead still where I stood.

"Lion's mane. I was _poisoned_."

A flicker of a smile crossed Darm's face at my blatant realization. He gave me a gentle push forward. My feet seemed to move of their own accord, for my mind was still spinning from the revelation.

"_Poisoned_," I said again, staring off into space. "Does Peter know who did it?"

Darm began to reply, but a guest from the ball appeared as we turned a corner, and he waited until the man was well out of hearing distance before whispering his answer.

"He was hoping you would have an idea. Do you know if you drank anything, or ate anything tonight that wasn't tested?"

"I didn't touch a thing!" I replied, lowering my voice as a servant glanced curiously our way. "I had nothing to eat, and I didn't drink any—wait."

My mind whirled as I played back the last few minutes before the darkness swallowed everything up. Corin. Fio's song. The chair. Peter's gob—

"That's it!"

All the servants in the hall turned to look at us. I flushed and smiled as apologetically as I could manage with my heart racing so. Darm's eyes flashed with intrigue as I turned back to him.

"Do you know who did it?"

"It was Peter's goblet," I whispered, glancing over my shoulder as I spoke. "It was _his_. I took a drink during Fio—er, the minstrel girl's song. And then everything went black…"

We reached the infirmary, but I didn't enter the door. I turned to my young friend and grabbed his shoulders, staring straight into his eyes with feverish passion.

"Darm. Tell Peter that I have to see him—as soon as possible! Tell him to pretend to be sick—break his big toe—anything! I have to see him now!"

"Calm down, King Edmund," Darm said, grabbing my arm to steady me as I swayed on my feet. "The cordial may have healed your immediate needs, but you still need the rest of the cure. I'll get the message to the High King—never fear. Please don't overexert yourself—you're still in grave danger."

I prepared to blast out how necessary it was that I saw Peter at once, but swallowed my words as I realized that Darm was in the right. I nodded meekly and turned to enter the infirmary.

"This is incredibly important, Darm. Peter needs to know about this. Now."

-----

I had _meant_ to spend the time pacing up and down the infirmary until Peter arrived. Windmane had given me a dosage of herbs to completely cure the Adder's Blood. I was familiar with the remedy—a fairly ordinary weed that grew thickly in secluded parts of Narnia and Archenland—and wondered absently as I paced whether it might be wise to have it on hand in order to preserve Lucy's cordial.

"Pacing will not make time pass more quickly," Windmane reprimanded me from her herb table on one side of the infirmary. "You should rest, King Edmund. The herbs will make you realize how tired you are. Perhaps they'll help you rest; you're always in such a hurry, tearing around the castle as if nothing can wait! Your brother will arrive when he will arrive."

I sighed and gave her a look. She returned it, but with a chastising glare in it that reminded me of my mother—and Susan.

Reluctantly, I lowered myself onto the cot and leaned up against the wall. My eyes ached. Windmane was right when she said it had been a long day. Quite suddenly, as the coolness of the stone wall seeped into my back, I realized exactly how tired I was. I yawned.

"Goblet. It was the goblet. Well…the poison, I guess. Not the goblet. The juggling balls had their part in it, too, though. And the appetizers. If it hadn't been for the appetizer menu I'd be fine."

"Did you speak, Majesty?"

I rolled onto my side and rubbed my eyes, trying very hard not to think about letting them close. The cot was so blasted _comfortable_.

"I said it was the goblet's fault. And that Corin. And that horrid Lady Claudia too."

I felt a hand on my shoulder and opened my eyes to see Windmane staring down at me with the oddest of looks.

"What?"

She shook her head slowly, and then smiled slightly.

"I suppose it's merely the remedy. It can make one act a bit delirious."

"_Delirious_…" I stared vacantly ahead, and then blinked, slapping my face and focusing on staying awake. "Was that on the appetizer menu?"

Before Windmane had a chance to reply, the door of the infirmary slammed open, and a head of golden hair glistened in the dim light.

"Edmund?"

I sat bolt upright, pushing Windmane away and pinching myself viciously. I wasn't going to sleep until I told Peter what I had learned. Not even the cure could make me do _that_.

"Peter, I know who it was!"

My brother stared.

"What?" I asked, giving him a quizzical look.

"Nothing," he said with a smile. "You look an awful lot like you did when you were younger when it was late at night and you needed sleep badly. A bit tired, are you, Ed?"

I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes. And then yawned.

"_No_. Well, yes, but I _have_ to tell you..."

"You know who it was?" Peter prompted gently.

"It was the Lord Chancellor…_what's_ his name?"

Peter gasped and drew back.

"Not Lord Irwin?"

I nodded absently.

"That's the one. At least, I _think_ it was him. It was _your_ goblet that was poisoned, and when Fio went to sing I forget it was yours and took a drink. Then I got quite sle—" I yawned enormously, "—_sleepy_."

Peter watched me with worried eyes.

"Are you sure you're all right, Ed?"

I nodded and yawned again.

"Just delirious. Nothing to be worried about."

Peter stared at me with an expression that was half bewildered and half amused.

"_Just_ delirious?"

I nodded and yawned. Peter stared for a moment more, and then shook himself out of it.

"Did you leave my goblet behind for any period of time?"

I hesitated, and then nodded as I remembered my visit with Corin.

"Ye-es…I went to talk to…to someone. I set the goblet on the chair between Lady Iliea and Lord Irwin. I was only gone a minute or so…

"And Lady Iliea was sitting next to where you left my goblet. Wouldn't she have noticed if Irwin poisoned it?"

"Or vice versa," I muttered. Peter gave me a half-hearted glare, but I knew he wasn't all that annoyed. "I suppose she would have," I continued, "unless…"

Peter leaned forward with anticipation.

"Unless _what_?"

I yawned and blinked and then shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs away.

"Unless Lord Irwin set his goblet next to mine—yours—and then picked yours up instead of his own. Perhaps he had already poisoned his. I didn't see him drinking from it. Maybe his plan was to put the poison in his vessel, and then exchange glasses with you. Except you happened to be called away and it was I who drank from Lord Irwin's poisoned cup."

Peter nodded, musing over my reasoning. I wasn't at my best, I must admit. But one must remember when reading this account that I _had_ just been poisoned, revived, and been administered an herb that made one delirious—all in the last half hour.

"Was anyone else nearby when you returned to your seat?" Peter asked suddenly.

I blinked at him wordlessly. My older brother raised an eyebrow—he looked rather amused, now that I come to think of it—and sighed.

"Ed..._Ed_, did you hear me?"

I bit my tongue rather hard, and then winced, tasting blood. I seriously needed sleep.

"I don't recall. There was _Iliea_ and _Irwin_ and _Corin_ and _you_ and _Ther_, and _Irwin_ is the one we've been suspecting for this entire time. We need to…question…him…"

The world started to blur again, and my words slowed, slurring together. I yawned.

"So…tired…"

The bed was awfully soft. I didn't remember lying down, but it didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now. Just sleep.

"Will he be all right?" I heard Peter's voice ask from above.

"Once he gets some rest, he will, Majesty," Windmane replied.

"No matter _what_ he tries to tell you, don't let him out of bed until—"

I never heard the rest of what Peter was saying, for at that very moment I fell into a deep sleep that Windmane later told me reminded her of a rock.

* * *

**_TBC........_**


	11. Arrest

**A/N: Once more, special thanks to all reviewers!!! I would be in a sorry state if you didn't take the time to leave a note of encouragement. ;)**

* * *

_--Chapter 11: Arrest--_

Windmane positively refused to let me leave the infirmary—or even my bed—the next morning no matter _how_ hard I begged and implored her otherwise.

"I'm _fine_!" I cried. "Honestly! Look! I'm awake! And I'm not tired anymore! There's _work_ to be done! A _murderer_ to catch! Peter's _courtship_ to spoil!"

I winced as Windmane gave me The Look.

_I knew I shouldn't have said that last one out loud._

"What if I _order_ you to let me leave?"

Windmane gave me a cool look and glanced at the door.

"Then I would beg your pardon and reply that the _High King's_ orders are to disregard yours."

I scowled and glared at the wall to my right. Blast. Peter _would_ have told her that. He was as irritatingly protective as Susan—just in a different way. But as I lay there, incredibly awake and ready to rise and having nothing else to do, I decided to run over the facts again.

Irwin had to be the murderer. I was certain of it. After all, the 'fair' Iliea might be able to pretend to swoon at my brother, but surely she didn't have the stomach to poison someone in cold blood. Did she? And then there was Ther…he had been behind Iliea, newly arrived in our company. Surely both Iliea and Lord Irwin's attentions would have been on him from the moment he walked up. And Irwin could have done it so easily. Simply poison his wine beforehand and then switch glasses somehow.

I wondered briefly if Corin had been in on it, perhaps bribed to draw me away so Irwin would have time to switch the glasses, but then dismissed the thought as the last remains of my delirium from the previous night.

Something was nagging at my mind, though. Something that had to do with waking up. I had remembered just this morning, right before I opened my eyes. Voices. Someone had been speaking to someone else right before Lucy healed me with her cordial. Two voices, one chastising the other for something. I closed my eyes and tried to remember just what the voices had said.

"Stop that noise at once."

_That wasn't it._

"There. He'll be all right now."

_Impossible._

"Idiot. That's the wrong one."

"My apologies. It was my fault entirely."

_That's it._

My eyes snapped open. The second speaker, the one who had apologized, had been Lord Irwin. There was no mistaking his thick, Calormene accent. And the apology…the 'wrong one' must have been me. He was apologizing, admitting it was his fault, for poisoning me instead of…Peter! Of course! It all made sense now! I had suspected it was Irwin, of course, but this was _proof_!

I was out of the bed and halfway to the door before Windmane could turn around. She began to protest, but I was at the door by the time she could get anywhere near me, and by the time she reached the door I was already gone. I raced down the corridors, wondering where I could find Peter, or—even better—Lord Irwin. Turning one corner, I almost knocked down Peridan, the Captain of the Royal Guard.

"Peridan! Just the man I wanted to see! Has Irwin been apprehended yet? He hasn't escaped, has he?"  
Peridan gave me a strange look.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed, Sire? You should be getting rest after last night."

I grimaced and looked away for a fraction of a second. Had Peter gotten to everyone?

"There's no time for rest now. Not when Narnia's safety hangs in the balance by a thread."

"Sire?"

I leaned forward, glancing over my shoulder, and then spoke slowly.

"Has Peter questioned Lord Irwin?"

Peridan shook his head slowly, watching me like I was some kind of wild beast that might bolt at any moment.

"Nay, my lord. Nor did he give any order to detain him. Are you certain you're all right? You have a wild look in your eyes."

I tried to look a little less wild, but probably failed miserably. I always ended up looking rather wild when I was excited.

"Take a few men and escort Lord Irwin to the throne room. Search his quarters. I'll go get Peter and bring him as soon as I can convince him I'm not about to die."

"Sire?"

I shook my head and put a hand on my hip, right where my sword hilt should have been. But Susan had insisted that it wasn't very diplomatic to wear swords to fancy dress balls or feasts, so Peter and I had left ours in our rooms. I hadn't had time to find it, since Darm had escorted me directly to the infirmary. I let out another sigh as I felt the absence of its weight by my side.

"Blast. I can't very well go tearing around the castle searching for a murderer without a weapon, can I?"

"Sire?"

Peridan was watching me with a very strange look on his face. I bit my tongue and realized that I'd been voicing my thoughts, something extremely uncharacteristic of me.

"Bring Irwin to the throne room. I'll have Peter there as soon as possible."

With that, I turned and began walking as quickly as I could toward my chambers, leaving Peridan staring after me, very likely quite confused and skeptical as to whether I was in my right mind or not. Even I wasn't _quite_ certain on that point.

My chamber was half-way across the courtyard from the infirmary, so I decided to cut through the Apple Orchard, the one where I'd first met Corin but a few days before. Passing through, I caught sight of Corin and Fio. Fio was juggling, and Corin was sitting under one of the trees, laughing and trying to juggle a few apples—and failing rather miserably, I might add. I felt a tug at my heart, and hesitated, longing to join them, but knowing I couldn't. My mission was of the essence. Before I could get away, however, Corin saw me.

"Edmund!" he shouted, leaping to his feet and bounding toward me. "They wouldn't let me see you in the infirmary, and Windmane said you'd be in bed all day. Did you fight your way out? Are you all right? What happened at the ball, and why won't anybody tell me what's going on?"

I gently pushed Corin aside and kept walking. He followed.

"No, yes, I was poisoned, and I'm not sure. And you say _grownups_ ask too many questions."

Corin halted when I mentioned the poison. It was so sudden that I stopped too, and looked back at him. His face was white, and there was a sick, almost _frightened_ expression on his face.

"_Poisoned_? Like that boy in the kitchen?"

I nodded, but then shrugged, wondering what was the matter with him.

"Yes. I'm all right now, though. Lucy's cordial took care of that…I say, is something the matter?"

Fio approached from behind and put a hand on Corin's shoulder. She gave me a chastening look, though I wasn't sure why. Corin swallowed, and then breathed in deeply.

"_Nothing's_ the matter. We were worried about you _all_ morning. That's all," the prince said quickly, grinning halfheartedly. "Want an apple?"

I shook my head.

"No-o. Regrettably I'm in a hurry. I can't play today, Corin. Perhaps later, all right?"

Corin nodded, and then Fio gave him a gentle push back toward the Orchard.

"I'll be back in a second, Corin. I'm going to walk with Edmund for a minute."

Corin gave her a curious look, but then nodded.

"All right. But if you're gone for more than five minutes I'm going to come looking for you."

I began walking hurriedly toward the other side of the Orchard. Fio kept pace with me, and after a moment, I asked, "Was it just me or was Corin behaving strangely?"

Fio sighed and shook her head.

"It was the mention of poison. King Lune warned everyone not to tell him about it, but I guess you wouldn't have heard."

"Why on earth? Did he think it would be too traumatic for Corin or something of that sort? He was there when the first incident happened. Come to think of it he acted rather strangely then, too."

Fio gave me a look.

"You mean you don't _know_?"

"Know _what_?"

"King Lune's wife—Corin's mother—was killed by a deadly poison in the hands of a power-hungry madman."

Understanding suddenly dawned. My pace faltered for the slightest of seconds, and then I continued on, staring straight ahead.

"Oh. I see."

Fio gave me another look.

"'Oh. I see'? That's all you've got to say?"

"What _should_ I say?" I asked, giving her an apologetic look. "Corin obviously doesn't want to discuss it at the moment, and I've got to find Peter or we'll never catch this murderer!"

Fio didn't speak. I turned to look at her, and saw that her face was dark with anger.

"All right, then. Go find your murderer. It's not as though Corin needs you or anything."

I began to protest, but she cut me off with a glare.

"You know that he calls you his brother, don't you? The brother he never had? And that he practically worships the ground you walk on?"

I shook my head wordlessly, at a loss in my surprise. I really did want to go and talk Corin out of this mess I'd gotten him into. If King Lune had warned everyone not to mention the poison, then it must be a pretty serious thing indeed to the prince. But what was more important, I wondered: comforting Corin, or saving him and his other parent from a deadly murderer? The answer was painfully obvious. Besides, I could always speak with him _after_ we apprehended Lord Irwin.

"I'm sorry, Fio," I said to the girl, stopping before an archway and putting a hand on her arm. "I'll go and find him and sort out this whole thing—right after we put this murderer behind bars. Theoretically speaking, of course."

Fio's glower continued for another moment, but at last she looked down and sighed.

"Do as you wish, King Edmund. But don't forget about Corin in all this. He needs an older brother more than anything else. Especially since said older brother was almost killed the same way as his mother was."

I nodded with a sort of hidden grimace at the idea of being any sort of relation to my dear troublemaking prince of a friend, and then turned.

"If you'll excuse me, Fio. I'll find you and Corin later; I promise! Look after him for a while, will you?"

"Of course I will," she replied sharply. "_Someone's_ got to watch out for him when there's a murderer loose."

I winced at the fierce note in her voice and began striding off toward my chambers again. As I rounded the corner of the archway, I nearly crashed into Princess Iliea. She let out a little scream, jumping back, and the color drained from her face as if she'd just seen a ghost.

"I'm sorry to frighten you, milady," I apologized, bowing clumsily and stepping around her. "I'm afraid I'm rather in a hurry."

"No trouble, King Edmund. I…I'm pleased to see you looking…so well," I heard her voice answer from behind me, sounding strangely flustered.

But, as I had told the princess, I was in a hurry and had no time to wonder about her tone of voice. At last, I reached my bedchamber. My sword was lying just where I'd left it, stretching across my bed, long and slender and beautiful to my eyes.

As I strapped it on with smooth, familiar motions that I'd used so often my hands needed little prompting, I sighed in relief, feeling secure now that my weapon was by my side. Secure, not only against my enemies that might be lurking in the shadows of Cair Paravel, but also against Peter, and whoever else would challenge my being out of bed.

Armed and feeling whole again, I departed from my chambers and began searching for my elder brother. Luckily, I had not far to go, for turning a corner on my way to the throne room (the likeliest place to find him), I nearly knocked him down such was the force of our collision.

"Peter!"

My brother stared at me like I was a ghost (just as Iliea had), and then frowned fiercely as his eyes flickered to my sword.

"Edmund, _what_ are you doing out of bed? I _specifically_ told Windmane that you were _not_—"

I held up a hand and stopped his flow of reprimands in the hopes that my news would make him forget about my escape.

"Peter, I have _proof_ that Irwin is the murderer."

As I had hoped, this statement made Peter freeze in the middle of his next sentence.

"What?"

I began walking toward the throne room, and, just as I'd expected, Peter followed.

"I'll tell you about it when we get there. I sent Peridan to arrest him and bring him to the throne room. They'll be there soon."

"But Ed…"

I stopped and turned back to look at my brother. He had a worried look in his eyes, and I groaned inwardly. Surely he wouldn't press the case _now_. Not when there was so much to be done.

"Peter, I'm fine. I promise. Forget about the poison. As long as Lucy's handy, we needn't worry overly about anything of that sort."

Peter raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

"I wasn't worried about you, Ed. It's your hasty accusation of Lord Irwin. I wish you'd come to me before sending Peridan to _arrest_ him. What if you're wrong? This could create a diplomatic disaster!"

My heart plummeted for a half-second as I wondered. What if I _was_ wrong? Surely my speculation wasn't proof enough to charge a man with _murder_. But then, I recalled the way he glared at me and Peter, and remembered the words I had heard as I awakened. I just _knew_ that it was him.

"I'm _not_ wrong, Peter. It's Irwin. I'm sure of it."

Peter nodded slowly, and then shrugged, resting his hand on his sword hilt and beginning toward the throne room with a determined stride.

"Well, if you're _sure_. I'm sorry I'm being so dogmatic about this, Ed, but…" he paused, and then shrugged again. "I just can't bear to see an innocent man condemned as guilty."

"He's not innocent," I argued, walking quickly to keep up with my older brother's long stride. "Just wait. You'll see."

* * *

_**TBC………**_


	12. Evidence

_--Chapter 12: Evidence--_

Peridan was waiting with Lord Irwin when we arrived. The Lord Chancellor of Galma looked distraught, his face about as pale as a Calormene's face could get. I shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling that passed over me as I watched his expression. Either he _was_ innocent—or he was an extremely talented actor. As I studied the way he moved, I decided upon the latter. The way he moved was so smooth and deliberate, as if every one of his motions was planned exactly. Peridan stepped forward.

"Sire. My men searched Lord Irwin's apartments as requested and discovered nothing. We found Lord Irwin in the stables, speaking with the stable boy from Galma. It is conceivable that he was planning his escape, for the stable boy confessed that the Lord Chancellor ordered a horse for tomorrow."

Lord Irwin blanched. I tried, unsuccessfully, not to smile grimly. Peridan was thorough, and his relating of his investigation had obviously stuck a chord.

"Planning your escape, were you, my lord?" Peter asked, almost absentmindedly.

"Escape, King Peter?" Lord Irwin asked, trying to sound confused, and actually sounding most convincing. "Escape from what? If I have done wrong, I know nothing about it."

"We have suspected you guilty for the two poisonings that have taken place in the castle of Cair Paravel—one that took place in the kitchen concerning the cook's nephew, and the other in the ball room, whence our Royal Brother fell foul of a poisoned cup."

Peter said all this very steadily, not a tremor of emotion in his voice. He was so good at being my worried older brother one moment, and then being the emotionless, firm High King the next. It was almost maddening how well he played his role.

Lord Irwin caught his breath when Peter finished his speech, but then seemed to relax as he said:

"What proof is there against me, my Lord?"

Peter looked at me. I flinched. I had expected Peridan to return with at least _some_ proof from the Lord Chancellor's chambers, but nothing had been found. Now all I could use in accusation was the sentence he had spoken when I had awakened in the ballroom, and now, that looked rather silly. Really, it wasn't enough evidence to charge a man with murder. Evidence. I needed evidence. Peter, Peridan, and Lord Irwin all watched me expectantly as I thought.

At that moment, Darm appeared at my elbow, silent as a cat—as usual. I jumped half a foot in alarm —as usual.

"King Edmund," he whispered, pressing a vial into my hands. "Take this. It's evidence."

"Evidence?" I stared down at the vial with what must have been a quizzical expression flashing across my face. I knew very well that Darm couldn't read minds, but this was impossibly good luck!

Darm nodded, jerking his head over his shoulder.

"Against the Lord Chancellor. You know how Lord Peridan had Lord Irwin's chambers searched? Well, the poison—the Adder's Blood—," he pointed at the vial in my hands, which I nearly dropped in surprise and horror, "—wasn't there. But it _was_ in the saddlebags that he was delivering to Reth, the Galmian stable boy. We searched the stables after Lord Peridan brought Irwin here and discovered the vial."

"Thanks," I whispered to Darm, and then turned to Peter, Peridan, and Lord Irwin, holding up the vial proudly. "What do you say to _this_, Lord Chancellor?"

Lord Irwin stared at the bottle with his jaw clenched. His nostrils flared, as if he was trying desperately to control some emotion.

"What…what is it?" he asked.

I uncorked the vial and smelled it carefully, just to be sure. As I had expected, a strong, spicy aroma, similar to nutmeg, except far stronger, filled my nostrils—the telling odor of the deadly Calormene poison. The only thing that vial could have contained was Adder's Blood.

"Tis the poison."

Irwin blanched again and stood very still, like a cat who is about to pounce—or rather a mouse about to be pounced upon. I smiled inwardly. We had caught our man.

"Where was this poison found?" Peter asked, though I was almost certain he had overheard Darm.

"Twas in the saddle bags that Lord Irwin gave to Reth, the stable boy with the Galmian party," I nodded at the young man who had accompanied Darm to the throne room. I had never seen him before this moment, though there was something about him that reminded me of someone else.

"Your Majesty, I protest." Lord Irwin seemed suddenly to awaken, as if from a dream. "I am not at fault for this crime…I was nowhere near King Edmund when he collapsed at the feast. By then, I was near the other side of the room, having gone to refill my empty glass of wine."

"Empty because you had secretly exchanged glasses with Edmund, replacing my nearly empty goblet with one that contained the Adder's Blood," Peter replied steadily.

"But my lord," Irwin protested, "I drank from my own goblet before the ballad was sung!"

"Did anyone witness you drinking from the cup?" I asked.

Irwin faltered, and his face grew more like a mask.

"Surely someone, highness."

I sighed and gave Peter a shrug. There was no real way to prove that he hadn't drunk from his cup before exchanging with me; but that wasn't the only argument we could use against him.

"Reth, please advance to our throne."

The stable boy stepped slowly forward until he stood in the light. His black hair gleamed as he bowed low, and then he stood straight again.

"Lord Irwin, the Lord Chancellor of Galma, approached you in the stables with the request of a horse for tomorrow?"

The young man nodded.

"Aye, sire. He wanted me to saddle his stallion and put these saddle bags," Reth held up two leather bags, "on the horse's back as well."

"And this poison," I added, holding up the vial of Adder's Blood, "was found in those very saddle bags?"

"Aye, sire," Reth replied after hesitating for the briefest of seconds. "I assume he wanted to be gone with any evidence before this whole plot could be discovered."

Before I could ask what plot he was talking about, other than killing Peter and perhaps the rest of us, the door slammed open and I heard the angry voice of King Gavin as he shouted at the guards.

"What is this? A secret council concerning one of my own men? I'm to be notified if trouble comes up! Why was I not notified? King Peter?! What is the meaning of this?

I groaned, and Peter gave me a look. I shrugged and looked away, as my brother called out, "Guards! Let King Gavin pass. His presence might be helpful in this instance."

In a few more moments, King Gavin strode forward into the throne room. He stopped before Peter's throne, a look of barely veiled anger on his heavy features.

"Why was I not notified of my Lord Chancellor's arrest?"

Peter gave me an 'I told you so' look and then stood, bowing slowly to the Galmian King.

"My most profound apologies, sir. I did not think you desired to be involved. This is Narnia's problem, concerning this murderer, yet it also concerns one of your lords. Please, stay and do as you see fit, King Gavin."

Gavin seemed taken aback at this cordial reply to his hotheaded entry. Peter usually had that effect on other Kings and ambassadors and that sort. Mollified for the moment, King Gavin bowed in return and sat down in the chair that the stable boy had found for him.

"Lord Irwin," Peter continued smoothly, as if there had been no interruption at all, "have you any explanation for this meeting with the stable boy? What was your errand on the morrow to be?"

Irwin paused as he contemplated the matter. I could see sweat glistening on his brow; both his hands were clenched by his side.

"I was to ride to the town of Beaversdam, Excellency. We in Galma have our own great waterfall, the Cliffspur, outside of Glennith, and I was eager to look upon the Narnian falls to see how they compared."

Peter gave me a sidelong glance, and I shook my head.

"King Gavin," said I after a pause, "did you order or give your Lord Chancellor leave to visit the Waterfalls of Beaversdam?"

Gavin stared at Irwin for a long moment, and their eyes met: Irwin's almost pleading, and Gavin's hard and _condemning_, almost.

"I gave no such order or permission."

Lord Irwin let out a sort of muffled moan and fell to his knees before his king.

"My lord, that is not so! You were the very one who suggested the thing. To see the waterfalls so that we in Galma may know that none exceed the Cliffspur in beauty and power. Those were your very words!"

Peter and I both watched Gavin with a quizzical look, but he met my gaze with a calm, somewhat fierce gaze, and shook his head.

"It is obvious that you were right in your accusation. I came originally on my daughter, Iliea's part."

"Iliea? What has she to say?" Peter asked suddenly.

Gavin half smiled.

"She wishes to suggest that someone may have switched glasses with King Edmund at the ball—someone who was seated next to him. Lord Irwin had the perfect opportunity, my daughter says, because after the good king left before the ballad, Lord Ther approached her, and her attention was drawn away from King Edmund's seat and goblet for almost a full minute."

"But I was distracted as well, during that time!" Lord Irwin replied desperately, an almost mad gleam entering his dark eyes. "You came and spoke with me, my lord. Do you not recall?"

King Gavin shrugged and nodded.

"So I did. But when I arrived, my daughter and Lord Ther were well into their conversation. You would have had plenty of time to exchange goblets, my lord."

"Enough."

Peter stood, an impatient look in his dark blue eyes.

"We will reassemble tomorrow or the next day for further talk when we are better prepared. Lord Irwin: there is much evidence against you and none for. You would be wise to consider pleading guilty, for then mercy might be given. You will be taken to one of our safe rooms, which you will doubtless find quite satisfactory, even given the knowledge that you shall be kept as a prisoner until a verdict can be reached. Peridan, please see to all the necessary arrangements. Dismissed."

Peter began walking toward the back of the throne room, almost as if he was in a hurry. I followed after quickly thanking Reth and Peridan for their help. I fell in step with him after I caught up, and asked, "What's wrong with you? We had him caught! He was this close—," I held up my fingers to illustrate. "And then you dismissed everyone. Why? Don't you want justice to be done and the murderer to be caught at last?"

Peter turned on me and caught my arm, a brooding frown on his face.

"Something about this isn't right, Edmund. There's something that doesn't fit. I'm not sure what it is, but it's there. I can't help but still feel that Irwin isn't guilty. He seemed so stricken at seeing the poison…" his voice trailed off and a faraway look entered his eyes. "It's too sudden to justify any actions fairly. Give him time for the shock to wear off, and then we'll see."

I sighed impatiently and turned away, beginning the walk back to my chambers without another word to Peter. What was it with him and me this summer? It was backwards: me wanting it to happen quickly, and him willing to wait—_wanting_ to wait. The rest of our lives it had always been the other way round.

_Maybe_, I thought as I walked,_ he _has_ been poisoned, and it's deteriorating his judgment and ability to lead…_

_…and maybe he's just maturing at last. While I'm…un-maturing. Is that even a word? _

As I entered my chambers, I halted in surprise. And shock. And utter dread.

My room had been utterly destroyed.

* * *

**_TBC......._**


	13. Missing

**A/N: This chapter may be a wee bit shorter than all the others, but I'm sure you'll like it all the same. ;) Good sibling interaction, you know. Once more I'd like to thank all my fantabulous reviewers (is either of those a word? ;D) and mention once more how extremely grateful I am. I didn't realize when I wrote this story that I'd have a bunch of detectives reading and analyzing every detail. You're from Scotland Yard, the lot of you. I'm convinced of it. Either that or 221B Baker Street...ah well. Enjoy!**

* * *

_--Chapter 13: Missing--_

"What on _earth_?"

I stepped through the doorway into my room with my mouth wide open, gaping so wide in my surprise that if Lord Irwin had been present, he would have had no trouble stuffing, not only a drop or two of poison, but the whole blasted goblet of poisoned wine into my mouth.

The neat, orderly room I had left not a half-hour before was no longer neat and orderly. Everything that had been in my wardrobes and bureau now lay scattered on the floor, the bed, and the chairs. My bed looked like a horse had slept in it, so muddy and rumpled were the sheets and pillows. Even my desk had been ransacked, the contents of it spilled across the floor in a mess of papers and ink quills.

As I moved further into the room, I saw someone digging in the bottom of the last of my wardrobes. Hesitating long enough only to draw my sword, I leapt forward and caught the figure by the back of its muddy tunic and pulled it out so I could see its face…

…and found myself staring into the frantic blue eyes of my sister, Lucy.

"Hullo, Ed," she said, smiling distractedly.

"LU???!!" I dropped my sword but didn't let go of her tunic for fear she would escape. My youngest sister was a mess. Her fine, blue dress that she liked to wear on normal days was stained and streaked with mud. Her hair was tangled, and a few limp white flowers were still twisted into her golden curls. She looked like she'd been through a war.

"Lucy, what in Aslan's name is going on? What happened to you? Are you all right? And what have you _done_ to my _room_?"

"Well I—" Lucy began, but at that moment, Susan entered the room behind us and let out a cry of admonition in the form of my little sister's name. We both turned, and Lucy hung her head as Susan gave her a scathing glare.

"Lucy, I told you to leave Edmund's room _alone_. You should've at least asked his permission before coming in—let alone ransacking the place! And look what a mess you've made!"

Lucy looked, her cheeks turning pink as she took in the full damage she had done.

"Oh, I _am_ sorry, Ed. But I can hardly think right now because if I don't find it we're _doomed_, and I _did_ come up here last night after the ball to check on things and I _might_ have left it here and there was no way to tell unless I looked for it and—"

"LU!"

My shout silenced her endless stream of babbling, not unlike the words that sometimes issued from Peter's mouth when he was being an emotional and protective older brother. Susan grinned, probably thinking the same thing, and then turned and left with a little nod to me in farewell.

"Take a deep breath, Lucy," I said after a moment, giving her a look. "Now. What's gone missing?"

Lucy breathed deeply, as instructed, and then thrust out her hands with irritation.

"My cordial, Edmund! It's gone! Disappeared! Vanished! Caput!" She hesitated for a moment, waiting for my reaction, most likely, and then continued. "I've looked everywhere! The ballroom, my room, Susan's room, your room," she looked around apologetically with the last bit. "I _know_ I had it last night because that was when you were poisoned and I _know_ I had it then or else you wouldn't be here right now, but I can't remember _where_ I put it or _what_ I did with it!"

I had let go of her tunic when she had first proclaimed the disappearance of her precious cordial, and now put an arm around her in reassurance. She was close to tears, I could tell. The cordial was her most precious possession, given to her by Father Christmas before she had become a queen. There was not a single day I could remember not seeing it swinging in the little leather strap at her hip beside her dagger. It had saved all four of our lives —Lucy's and the rest of us—at one time or another, probably mine more than anyone else's. And now it was gone. Like that. Just _vanished_.

"It's all right, Lu," I said softly, working a white flower out of her hair with my free hand. "It can't be _that_ hard to find. When did you last see it?"

Lucy's eyes cleared as she tried to remember, but then let out a cry of impatience and annoyance after a moment.

"Oh, Ed! The last thing I remember doing with it was giving you a drop at the ball! And then I don't remember! I can't imagine I would have put it down someplace! I would only have given it to one of you—" she stopped, eyes widening and breath coming quickly. "_That's_ it! Maybe it's in _Peter's_ room!"

She whirled around to go search his chambers as she had searched mine, but I grabbed her arm and spun her back around.

"Not now, Lu! You've never let that cordial out of your sight before. Not even when you're sleeping," I replied, remembering countless times I had gone into her room to wish her goodnight and seen her sleeping with the little diamond bottle clutched tightly in her hands on the pillow. "I doubt you would've given it to Peter. Or any of us, for that matter. Have you looked in your room?"

Lucy plopped down in a chair and put her head in her hands.

"I've scoured my room fifteen times over! It's more of a mess than yours!"

I glanced around my room, at the mud streaked hither and yon, and at the mess of things that were scattered on the floor.

"That's rather hard to believe," I found myself saying dryly.

Lucy glanced at my face, and then blushed again.

"I really am sorry, Ed. I didn't think about the mess I was making—just finding the cordial. I'll clean everything up personally…really…"

I frowned, and then shook my head with a rueful laugh.

"Honestly, Lu, if you're going to offer to do something like that, don't look at me with those awful blue eyes. I'll clean up the mess. But only after you tell me why you're plastered in mud."

Lucy's eyes cleared for a fraction of a second as she forgot about the mysterious disappearance of her cordial, and grinned.

"I was having a mud fight. You know…in the vegetable garden? It's watering day, and the moles were having a mud fight, and Corin and Geoffrey were having _such_ fun that I couldn't help but join in! And then Corin split his lip and I thought about using my cordial, and then I realized that I didn't know where it was."

I laughed helplessly as I listened to Lucy's tale. Leave it to Lu to dive into a mud fight. So like Corin, she was, really. It was both maddening and hilarious. I shook my head and cuffed her gently on the head.

"Before you continue your search for the cordial, do everyone a favor and take a bath. You're tracking mud, my dear sister-queen."

With that, I turned and left the room, laughing again as I heard her furious "Blast!" as she noticed for the first time the muddy footprints that trailed across my floor.

* * *

_**TBC.....**_


	14. Argument

_--Chapter 14: Argument--_

I discovered Corin in the Orchard. His tunic was every bit as muddy as Lu's had been, if not a thousand times worse. With him was Geoffrey—Cook's nephew, I remembered—and Fio, staring at both the filthy boys with a look somewhere between disgust and approval. When Corin saw me, his eyes lit up.

"Ed! Where have you been all morning? You said you'd find us after the whole bothered council thing with Lord Irwin, but it's been at _least_ three hours since then."

I patted Corin's head affectionately as I reached him, and then grimaced as I glanced at the mud that now streaked my hand.

"Not even two have passed, Corin. You're too impatient."

I turned to Fio and Geoffrey with a smile.

"Was the mud fight a success?"

Geoffrey laughed aloud, and Fio sighed with a rueful smile.

"Alas—I arrived just as they were declaring a truce; but I'm planning on joining them the next time war breaks out in the garden!"

"Count me in as well," I replied without thinking what Susan or Peter might have to say about this, and only remembering the glad smile on Lucy's face when she mentioned the occasion. "I suppose you've heard the bad news?"

A shadow fell across each of their faces, and Corin nodded sadly.

"Queen Lucy's cordial. We were just looking for it, because she came here, to the Orchard, before she went to the garden and I thought she might have dropped it."

I nodded at this, wondering with some fraction of my mind why Corin referred to Lucy with the title of Queen, but only called me 'Ed', or at best 'Edmund'.

Fio snapped her fingers.

"As a matter of fact, I remember her saying something about the garden maze, too." She gave me a meaningful look, glanced at Corin, and then back at me. "Come on, Geoffrey. Shall we search there?"

Geoffrey gave her a quizzical look, but then nodded willingly as she graced him with a smile. Corin started forward.

"I'll come too!"

Fio held up a hand and gave me another meaningful look.

"You and King Edmund can search the Orchard. Besides, I think there's something he wants to _talk to you about_."

I flinched as I finally caught the meaning in those words. Fio wanted me to make up with Corin, to make sure that I hadn't upset him with my untimely mention of the murderer. I nodded and put a hand on Corin's sticky shoulder.

"That's right, Corin. We'll see you later, Fio; Geoffrey."

The two of them disappeared around a corner, laughing at some joke, and I turned to Corin with a sigh.

"Lion's mane, Corin, you're a sight!"

The boy shrugged innocently.

"Twas a mud fight. What did you expect?"

I shook my head as I looked him over, and then sighed again, plopping down in the grass next to one of the trees that stretched their leafy branches overhead.

"Sit."

Corin sat.

"I thought we were looking for Queen Lucy's cordial," he protested weakly.

"We are. Or will, when we're through with this. Corin…" I leaned forward, though not meeting his eyes, "are you all right?"

Corin gave me a look that plainly said 'What in Narnia are you talking about? I've just been in a mud fight and have spent the day doing nothing but fun. What could you possibly mean by "_all right"_?', but I wasn't fooled.

"I was wrong to mention the…well, the poison. Apparently your father had warned everyone else, but I didn't get the word because I was in the infirmary—," I stopped.

Just like before, Corin had turned white at the mention of the poison. Inwardly, I cursed and wished I hadn't brought it up so suddenly without any warning, but it was too late to turn back now.

"Corin, I'm sorry about your mother. I had no idea; otherwise I never would've told you."

Corin frowned thoughtfully, staring off somewhere beyond the Orchard—indeed, possibly past Cair Paravel's walls, even Narnia's glades—to a place far in the past, in his memory.

"It's not your fault," he muttered, looking down and blinking a few times. "Just the poison's."

I waited for a second, unsure whether to press the point or to let it rest, but then replied, "Do…do you want to talk about it?"

The prince's brow furrowed, and he drew in a deep breath.

"It wasn't anybody's fault, really. There was a traitor at Anvard who wanted the throne. He had been friends with another traitor called Lord Bar, who was killed a few months after I was born, and this other chap was the one who poisoned her. Father said that it was a ruse to make him lose heart and surrender his lands to the King of Calormen, but I say that it was a horrid way to capture a kingdom. I'd rather there'd been a battle, for then Mother would still be alive."

Corin said all this while staring down at the ground. I couldn't see his face, but I had a sort of feeling that there were great crystalline tears welling up those blue eyes of his. There were certainly tears in mine. I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Corin. As I said, I should've been more cautious with my words. Will you forgive me?"

At last, Corin raised his eyes and met mine. To my surprise, they weren't sad at all, but passionate and filled with a kind of fury.

"Only if you let me help look for the murderer."

* * *

"What?"

I drew back a bit in surprise. I certainly hadn't expected this response from him, though now, looking back, I shouldn't have been so astonished.

"You want to help?"

Corin nodded eagerly.

"I can follow people for you; watch them and figure out what's going on! Oh please, Edmund?"

I shook my head doubtfully, but then I suddenly remembered Lord Irwin.

"Corin, the murderer's already been caught."

"No he hasn't."

I threw my hands in the air in defeat.

"What in Narnia do you mean? You've obviously been told about Lord Irwin. He's been put under arrest, and his trial is tomorrow. Now that he's in prison, there's nothing more to worry about—"

"Except for Queen Lucy's missing cordial," Corin put in with a calculated look that practically begged me to ask what he meant.

"Missing is exactly what it is," I replied, not asking, but giving the straight facts. "She left it in her room somewhere; or the ballroom. There's certainly no mystery attached to the thing."

Corin raised an eyebrow enigmatically.

"There isn't?"

"Well…"

"Think about it, Ed," the prince continued before I could say anything else, "You're poisoned at the ball. Right after Queen Lucy heals you with her cordial, it disappears mysteriously. So she can't heal anyone else, maybe?"

"Corin…"

But the rest of what I was going to say evaporated from my suddenly gaping mouth.

_Great Scott, I'm growing slow witted! Why didn't I think of that!? What an idea!_

Lord Irwin wasn't working alone. He'd been under surveillance by Peridan and Darm all of last evening and this morning. He hadn't had a chance to steal the cordial. But what if someone else, someone else who wanted all of us dead, sneaked into Lucy's chamber in the middle of the night and snatched the cordial from where it lay on her pillow—my blood turned to ice.

Since Corin had brought up such an interesting point, I couldn't help but ask him who he thought the villain was. His answer made me laugh aloud.

"Iliea? Where in Narnia do you get these hair-brained ideas? Why do you think it was Princess Iliea?"

"Because she was acting rather suspiciously earlier today," the prince replied seriously, half pleading with me to believe him.

"And because she called you 'sweet' and 'adorable' and was wearing pink at the ball last night?" I finished with a knowing look.

Corin flushed and looked down.

"Anyone who wears a shade of pink like _that_ is a villain in my book," he muttered gloomily.

"Who else is in on this plot to kill off the entire castle?" I asked, somewhat amused by his first answer and curious as to whether the rest of the conspiracy would be equally entertaining.

"I'm not sure," Corin replied with a frown. "Reth, maybe. He could've slipped the vial into the saddle bag when no one was looking. There was a servant boy at the ball who looked suspicious too, the one serving wine. He had dark brown hair, but I don't know his name."

"Reth? The stable boy? You're mad!" I chuckled, not disappointed at his humorous reply. "And that servant boy happens to be Darm, one of my good Narnian friends."

Corin flushed again. He didn't grin after a moment like I'd expected he would. Instead, he gave me a doleful glare and stood, dusting his trousers off—though the grass gave way only to the fine undercoating of mud.

"You'll see," the prince said. "You think you've got your murderer with Lord Irwin in chains, but he isn't it. You've got the wrong person, and I'm not letting your mistake kill everyone else I love!"

His words cut deep, for my choice concerning Irwin still weighed heavily on my mind.

"Look, I didn't ask for your criticism," I said more sharply than I meant to.

"No, but you did ask for my opinion, and then you laughed at it," Corin retorted, his face flushed angrily. "Some 'Just King'. No wonder the murderer's targeted you first; you wouldn't be able to see the right villain if he stabbed you in the back."

As he turned and stalked off in the direction of the visitor's rooms where he and King Lune were staying, my anger rose unhampered, and I couldn't help but shout, "Go ahead and follow your suspects, Corin. Go on and save all of Narnia! Good luck—and good riddance!"

Though the prince stiffened visibly, he didn't hesitate in his stride, and he did not look back.

* * *

**_TBC............_**


	15. Midnight Meeting

**A/N: Again, thanks to everyone who has posted a review for this story! It's been so exciting to watch everyone formulate theories and try to figure out what's going to happen...and this is the last chapter before things really do start happening. ;) Again, there is no pairing intended between Fio and Edmund. Any 'romance' you pick up on is a figment of your imagination. ;) Thanks again, and enjoy!!!**

* * *

_--Chapter 15: Midnight Meeting--_

I slept very little that night for all the blasted thinking that went on in my mind. What if I'd gotten it all wrong and Corin was right? How could I know if Lord Irwin was truly guilty? What if I was looking at the evidence all wrong? At last, I sat up straight in my newly washed sheets—all of the mud-stains had come out except for a few of the darkest ones—and heaved a long sigh.

_This is ridiculous._

After a moment of hesitation, I got up, pulled on my trousers, and strapped on my sword. Perhaps the night air would do my restless mind some good.

I went to the door, but then paused before opening it. No good. Peter had been reluctant enough to let me stay in my own bed that night instead of the infirmary, and had looked at me so suspiciously that I couldn't help but think he'd left a guard at my door. He was probably lying awake too, thinking—just like me. No, if I wanted to escape, it'd have to be out the window.

As quietly as I could, I made my way to the window. Slowly, I drew back the drapes and took a long, deep breath of the cool Narnian air. A sweet, refreshing breeze chilled my feverishly hot skin, and I sighed in relief. Looking down, I could see the rose trellis that climbed directly up to my window. I'd had it put there, and had the trellis made strong enough for a person to climb up—or down. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, and it had already proved quite useful on several different occasions.

Carefully, I lowered myself from the window onto the trellis, thinking twice about what I was doing only for one long moment as my hands gripped the stone windowsill firmly before letting go.

The thorns on the rose vine scratched horribly as I climbed down the trellis. Of course, that's to be expected from roses. 'Beauty and pain go hand in hand', wrote one of the Calormene poets, one of my favorites because he lacked the loquacity of his fellow countrymen—and the dull never-ending-ness of their proverbs. I reached the ground unscathed, save for a tear in my sleeve and a nasty scratch on my palm.

Then I began the tiresome work of thinking. Instead of sitting on one of the cold, stone benches that shone like marble in the light of the half-moon, I paced back and forth between the rosebushes, thinking, thinking, _thinking_. It was maddening, really. Everything would've been so much simpler had Lucy's cordial not been stolen. Or if Lord Irwin had stolen it before or during the ball. But that was impossible, as was now the idea of his working alone.

_But why_? I wondered suddenly. _Why would Irwin want to poison Peter? Or me? Or anybody here in Narnia. Galma is working toward an alliance. They need an alliance. Desperately. They're such a small country that they're liable to be taken over any day now by Calormen or one of the other islands. They need Narnia as—_

But then I stopped dead in my tracks. They _needed_ Narnia. Exactly. But who? And why Irwin? Who was he working for, and why? Was the whole Galmian party in on this scheme?

_Of course not,_ I thought wearily, plunking down on a bench. _Gavin wants Peter to marry his daughter so the match will provide an alliance and he wants Eric to become a knight. Perhaps it's some other power-hungry lords who want to ally Galma with Narnia the bloody way, where they kill everyone and then take over._

But Corin had accused Iliea. Of course, I realized, that was probably because he had a personal grudge against her. I did too, and I might begin to allow myself to think badly of her if I wasn't careful. I didn't want her to marry Peter any more than Corin wanted to be called 'adorable', but that wasn't relevant right now.

"Oh _bother_ it all!"

I sighed and put my head in my hands, just about ready to send the whole thing to blazes. A sudden noise from elsewhere in the garden made me start. All my senses spiked. I half drew my sword and looked up. A dark figure was standing about a yard away. Adrenaline raced through my veins, but I did not move for a moment. The idea suddenly occurred to me out of thin air that the rose trellis could be used to gain entrance to my room by someone other than me. But I quickly ignored that thought and stared hard at the shadowed figure that was taking anther step forward. Was this the murderer?

"Come to finish what you began?" I asked quietly, almost to myself as much as to the figure.

"Relax, your highness. It's me."

The voice was low as it spoke. The figure stepped forward into the moonlight, and I saw, with relief, the slender form of my gypsy friend.

"Fio! What are you doing out so late?"

Fio's dark eyes gleamed as she watched me.

"I could ask you the same question."

There was something in her voice, some veiled hostility, almost, that I couldn't place.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked, leaning back and gesturing to the bench next to me.

She didn't sit, only stared.

"Fio?"

The girl sighed and turned away.

"King Edmund, what would you call me?"

I stared at her in confusion, not understanding. Her voice didn't have any romantic sound to it, so I wasn't worried that it was _that_ kind of question and that she wanted _that_ kind of answer, but still, I wasn't sure how to reply.

"A good friend," I answered at last.

"And Corin? What would you call him?"

I hesitated, glancing after a moment down at the hilt of my sword, and then back up at the gypsy girl. So _that_ was what this was about. My and Corin's argument. I still hadn't cooled down completely from our fight, and I wasn't about to admit that I was sorry.

"A bothersome, troublemaking miscreant."

A low laugh came from Fio's figure, a laugh that sounded strange and eerie in the moonlight.

"A miscreant. Nothing else? You're more stubborn than my Uncle's donkeys."

"All he ever does is get into scrapes," I retorted angrily. "And when he goes back to Anvard he'll have to live without me dragging him out of them. He can use a little practice now. Anyway, he survived all right on his own _before_ he came to Cair Paravel."

"Does your brother have that attitude toward you?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but then stopped and shut it again. He _had_, of course. Long ago, back when we lived in England and had never heard of Narnia. Back before the war. He hadn't cared terribly whether I got into trouble or not, back then. But that wasn't the Peter I loved, for after we had found Narnia, he had changed. Changed so suddenly that I could still scarcely believe how different he was. The old Peter I would've—actually _had_—traded off for Turkish Delight, but this new Peter…I would have exchanged _my_ life for _his_.

Now I saw Fio's point. I was behaving like the old Peter, the Peter who didn't care a fig what trouble I got into. No wonder Corin and I had gotten into a fight. In a way, it was identical to the ones Peter and I had fought, ages ago, in England.

_Blast,_ I thought, though most of my anger had left now. _Bother Fio. Now I have something _else_ I have to work out before this summer's through. _

"I can't imagine that he really expects me to behave as a brother toward him," I said, sighing and resting my head in my hands. "Goodness knows I wasn't _that_ horrid as a child."

"So say you," my friend replied, a trace of humor in her voice at last. "But that's not the point. The best things in life can be achieved only through hard work and devotion. Such as being a brother. Tell me, does your brother find it _easy_ to be responsible for you and your sisters?"

I paused, staring at her with a somewhat shocked expression.

"I don't know. I've never asked him."

"Easy is just another word for hollow," Fio replied grimly. "If it was easy to love or be brave or honorable or noble than it wouldn't be such an achievement. Those kinds of things have to be worked for, and it's not an easy path that leads to love and brotherhood. It would be meaningless if it was."

I nodded, beginning to understand.

"So maybe in loving the unlovable incorrigible Corin, you might find yourself rewarded for your labor. I heard it said once, in a ballad," Fio glanced up at the stars, smiling slightly as she thought, "that no act of love is ever wasted. It's not my place to tell you, O mighty king of Narnia," this slightly sarcastic, but not ungentle, "what you must and must not do; but I would ask, as a 'good friend', that you would not judge our young prince so harshly. Give him a chance. He only wants to please you."

There was a moment of silence before I spoke.

"You have a silver tongue, milady," I said somewhat hoarsely. "I wonder that your uncle didn't make you into a diplomat."

"He'd have preferred me to join his troupe of actors than become a juggling minstrel, but I prefer ballads to plays," the girl replied with a crooked grin. It disappeared in a second as she returned to more serious thoughts. "I can't stay any longer. Remember what I said when you see Corin again."

I opened my mouth to speak to her, but she held up a hand before I'd said a word.

"Goodnight, King Edmund. My family leaves tomorrow at dusk. Think carefully on how you will treat our young friend. Please, I beg you reconsider, if only for my sake."

And then, in a flash of moonlight, stars, and dark, dark eyes, Fio was gone and I was alone in the silent garden again.

Quite frankly, I still wasn't quite sure what to make of my gypsy friend. She seemed more like a dryad than a human in more ways than one. Smooth and strange; almost eerily inhuman sometimes. Of course I didn't hate Corin. I just wasn't about to admit that I needed a younger brother, which I didn't, or that Corin needed an older brother, which he did. But she had a point, blast it. All that about things worth having being hard to get…it was true. I just wasn't sure if being a brother to Corin was worth all the work it would take.

A cold breeze blew through the orchard and slithered across my skin. I shivered, rubbing my arms and thinking about a villain with cold, merciless eyes who might even now be wandering about the castle, unchallenged by the guard, ready to put whatever horrible plot lay in wait into action. Or was that villain Irwin? Surely his accomplice, or whoever had stolen the cordial—if it had been stolen, that is—wasn't the one behind the poisonings too. But how could I know?

The freezing air snaked across my face and through my hair again, and I shuddered. Somehow I knew that before night fell tomorrow, I _would_ know. And for some reason, even though I wasn't exactly sure why as I sat in the dark courtyard, staring up at the moon and shivering in apprehension and terror, I knew that gaining the knowledge would be much, much harder than becoming a brother to Corin.

* * *

**_TBC......._**


	16. Confrontation

**A/N: After much consideration, I came to the conclusion that this chapter really needs an author's note. I must confess that I exaggerated Susan's flirtatious and older-sisterly teasing far beyond what it probably would have been. If you are a big time Susan fan (*cough, cough*, Queen Su) and don't like her that way, I apologize. I happen to think Susan needs to grow up (even in Narnia), and this story is showing the Pevensies' minuses as well as their pluses, so to speak. Never fear, however, ye fans of Su. She recovers in later chapters. **

**Also, this is where the story really gets going (yeah, as if it wasn't going before!). If you can't stand cliffhangers, danger, and evil, wicked badguys, please stop reading. If you think I'm crazy for even suggesting that you not continue, by all means read on. ;D**

**Here we go.**

* * *

_--Chapter 16: Confrontation--_

"He's so romantic."

I bit back a laugh and leaned back in my chair as I listened to Susan.

"His hair—it's jet black, Ed. And his eyes—ooh! They make you want to shiver and giggle at the same time. And his smile—his smile!—" Susan paused and actually shivered at this one, "it's positively _melting_!"

I shook my head, watching her with a sympathetic smile.

"Sounds horrid. Poor, poor Col."

Susan laughed and slapped at me, but I dodged her just in time.

"Don't you have better things to do than to tease me about my love life?" Susan asked after a few minutes of trying to swat me with her pillow, smiling merrily in spite of my teasing.

"As a matter of fact, I do," I retorted with a cheeky grin. "Irwin's trial is in a few minutes. Just remember, my dear older sister, that you are the one who practically dragged me in here to tell me all about your latest love. Why don't you describe him in endlessly romantic terms to Lucy?"

Susan sighed and plopped down on her bed with another rueful laugh.

"Lucy won't listen to me. Always gives me that look and mutters something about me becoming a boring grownup. Imagine!"

"Yes, imagine!" I muttered, wishing to blazes that I could escape and not have to hear the rest of what Su was saying about her darling Lord Ther.

These Galmians. So terribly…romantic. I wrinkled my nose in distaste. Well here was one King who could do without all that sappy stuff. Su began describing Ther again more poetically than ever, even saying something—in a moony voice—about his "raven locks" and "azure eyes". It was enough to make me sick! At last, I grabbed Susan's arm and shook her gently.

"Hullo, Su? Wake up! You're not in dreamland anymore!"

"Oh Ed," Susan laughed, tousling my hair—_I hate it when she tousles my hair_—, "you're so funny about hating this kind of thing! You're so fervently _against_ romance that one might thing you actually liked it after all, but didn't want to admit it. A secret love, perhaps? Who is she? Ranya? Elisabeth? Lady _Claudia_? Or maybe that minstrel girl you were with the other night—_Fiona_. Now _there's_ a romantic name."

I blushed even though I knew Susan was just teasing. She was so horrid when it came to this kind of thing. It was practically the only reason I couldn't stand being in her company for very long—that and the fact that she unconsciously imitated Mum, behaving as overly protective as Peter.

"Fio's just a friend," I replied adamantly. "Really. In fact, she's leaving today with her Uncle."

"How sad," Susan said with a pout. "I was beginning to think we might have a real future for you, with a minstrel girl by your side."

I stood abruptly, knowing that my cheeks were burning red but not really caring.

"That's enough, Susan." My exclamation seemed to startle my sister, for the silly, giggly expression on her face vanished quite suddenly, replaced with a more serious one. "Fio is a friend. Nothing more, nothing less. And I don't want to hear _another word about it_—do you hear?"

"Of course, Edmund."

Susan nodded, astonished, I surmised, at seeing me, the quietest of us four, blowing up like that. A moment later, I sighed and turned back to face her.

"I'm sorry, Su. I just…I don't enjoy that kind of teasing. Not with friends whom I'd rather just think of as friends. All right?"

"I understand, Ed. I'm sorry."

My sister smiled at me apologetically, and I jerked a nod in reply. I took a step to the door, but Susan called out my name.

"Oh, Edmund!"

Before she could say anything else, however, a knock came from the door.

Susan sprang from her bed and shoved the door open with a sharp cry of "Ther?!" It was Darm, my spy, to her disappointment and my bewilderment.

"Is King Edmund in here?" Darm asked, breathing hard as if he'd been running.

"I'm here, Darm. What's the news?" I asked, standing and pushing Susan gently aside.

Breathless though he was, Darm wasted no time on preliminaries—one of the reasons he would make such a great noble—and began speaking at once.

"I was passing the gardens on my way here to give you a message from the High King, when I heard someone talking in the hedge maze. When I went closer to listen, I heard two men talking."

He paused, and I nodded eagerly for him to continue.

"The first said, 'There isn't time to complete the plan the way I wanted to, with the Adder's Blood. They grow suspicious. We'll have to resort to our second option and make our escape.' Then the other man said, 'Where shall we meet?' 'The stables,' the first replied, 'be there in a few minutes'."

"Great Scott!" I shouted, cheeks flushing with excitement, "they're going to the stables! Quick, Darm! Get Pete and Peridan and the rest! Tell them to meet me there as soon as they can!"

Darm turned to leave, and I made to follow, but then Susan called me from behind.

"Ed, before you go, I have a message for you! From Corin!"

I turned impatiently and threw out my hands.

"Quickly, please. I have to get to the stable. I'm going to watch from across the street so if they try to escape—,"

"It's _about_ the stable, Ed," Susan interrupted, running a hand through her own raven locks and frowning as she tried to remember. "He said he's following some stable boy…a Reth, I think? And he says that this Reth is going to the stable, and that you should follow at once. He told me to make absolutely sure you knew. Kept saying something about proving to you that he was right."

My blood turned to ice. I felt my face drain of color as all the facts came together and constructed a conclusion that I didn't like to think about. The murderers were going to meet at the stables. The stables where Corin was now aimlessly walking along, perhaps pretending to trail the stable boy who was inadvertantly leading him to his doom. Or perhaps not so inadvertantly as I had once thought.

_Wouldn't it be ironic if he was right after all, if Reth really was in on it?_ I thought, trying to calm my suddenly anxious mind. But then I shook my head and groaned as I realized something else.

"Oh _no_!"

"What?" Susan exclaimed, grabbing my arm so that I couldn't get away. "Whatever is the matter, Edmund!"

I grabbed her arms and gave her a look so full of panic that she let go immediately.

"Something I said earlier," I shouted, my heart screaming that I had to get to the stables.

"What?" Susan asked again, still confused beyond anything.

I didn't bother answering her.

"I'm going to the stables. Find Peter and warn him and Peridan to be careful when they attack. If I'm right, then there may be trouble—Corin trouble."

I left her with this command, turning and running immediately down the corridor. My words from the day in the armory replayed in my mind over and over again.

_"If there's any scrape to be got into, in he will get, and come out of it hurt the worst he possibly can…"_

I bit my lip and forced my legs to go faster, praying to Aslan that I wasn't too late already. At last, I saw the familiar arch with a carved horse's head that marked the entrance to the stable before me.

_Save Corin, save Corin, save Corin,_ chanted my mind, fixed solely on that one purpose.

"Corin!" I hissed, bursting into the stable.

Breathing hard, I looked frantically around, but until my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could see nothing. When I could see, however, I almost wished that I could not.

In one corner of the stable, cowering back against the wall, stood Corin. Between him and me stood a tall man. My first impulse was to leap at the man, but then I saw something that made me halt with a jerk and freeze so that I stood as still as a stone statue.

He was holding a knife.

I knew instantly that the man had not yet seen me. He was turned with his back toward me, so that I could not see his face. I knew at once that it wasn't Reth, however. This must be one of the murderers. Quickly, I slipped into the shadows. Unfortunately, Corin _had_ spotted me. I saw his eyes light up, but then, he forced his expression to go blank as he stared up at the man with the knife.

_Good lad. He knows not to give me away._

"Why were you following me, brat?" hissed the man, so softly that I barely heard him.

"I wasn't following you," Corin replied, a mischievous gleam entering his eyes. "I was just going to check on Flaed. My horse. He's in the fifth stall from the back, and he's a golden chestnut with four stockings and a blaze and a tiny upside-down moon on his chest. D' you want to see him?"

The man stood stock still, from all I could tell, staring down at the boy. His hand tightened on the knife, and my muscles tensed as I prepared to leap at him.

_If he takes so much as one step closer to Corin…_

"Y'see, _your highness_," Corin continued, chatting cheerfully as if he hadn't a care in the world, and certainly not appearing to be frightened by being cornered by a man with a knife, "Flaed was my birthday present from last year. He's not a talking horse, though. Sometimes I wish he was, but in Narnia and Archenland, sir, you're not supposed to ride talking horses."

"Lower your voice, boy," the man hissed, hand tightening on the knife grip, and then relaxing again.

"Lower my voice, _your highness_?" Corin asked loudly, making the words 'your highness' especially loud. "But why? Reth isn't asleep right now. I just saw him walk in here, and…" his words trailed off as the man inched toward him.

"You saw Reth?" the man asked.

"Yes, _your highness_," Corin replied, putting such emphasis on the title that I could've kicked myself.

_So that's what he's doing,_ I thought, biting back a moan, exasperated at myself. _He's stalling. But, what does he mean by 'your highness'…_

"Were you following him?"

The man's voice echoed in my mind and I finally recognized it. The pieces flew together, and I closed my eyes as the truth finally came to light.

_It was King Gavin. He was the one behind the attempted murders._

Everything fit: the poison and the effort to murder Peter, and then the placing of the blame on Lord Irwin as a scapegoat. Even the king's reaction to the news about his Lord Chancellor suddenly made sense. And the motive: he really did want Narnia for himself, not just an alliance. I felt like such an idiot by not having figured it out sooner.

_But Corin figured it out…almost…_

"…wasn't following anybody, your highness."

The voice of the young Prince of Archenland broke through my reflections, and I then realized that the danger was not over yet. I glanced at the stable door, praying that soon, Peter and Peridan would burst through them, arriving just in the nick of time as they usually did.

_Why don't they come?_

"You look familiar, boy," said Gavin, the jeweled dagger in his right hand quivering threateningly. "What is your name?"

A flash of uncertainty crossed Corin's face in the time it took to blink an eye.

"Corin, your Majesty."

The king bent down closer to him, clenching the dagger tightly.

"_Prince_ Corin? The son of King Lune?"

Corin swallowed hard, and nodded hesitantly. Gavin grabbed Corin by the arm and held the knife at his throat, turning around so I could see his face as he did. I clenched my fists, watching them helplessly.

"What do you _know_, boy?" Gavin asked, giving Corin's broken arm a painful squeeze.

Corin gasped, but shook his head in false bewilderment.

"I don't understand," he whimpered. The king gave his arm a twist, and Corin let out a pained yelp.

I could bear no more of this. Drawing my sword, I leapt forward recklessly, swinging the flat of my blade at the king's feet and hoping to catch him off balance. Alas, Gavin spotted me before I reached him, and he jumped back, dragging Corin with him. I stumbled forward, thrown off balance because I had missed my target. Gavin raised the knife, and rested the edge on Prince Corin's throat.

"Take one more step and the boy dies," Gavin hissed, staring at me anxiously.

My arms shook with rage, and I gritted my teeth, wishing that I had been able to think of some sort of plan. My gaze shifted to Corin's face. To my surprise, I found that he was glaring at me, not one hint of fear in his eyes.

"Get him," the boy hissed, baring his teeth, eyes blazing with hatred. "Don't let him get away; he's the murderer."

My mind whirled with hesitancy, even as I admired the sheer courage of the young boy who suggested such a thing. But even so, I knew—_knew_—that if I charged the king, Corin would die. I glanced back at the prince, and made my decision. I lowered my sword and saw Corin's eyes widen.

"Look out, Ed!" he shouted, voice filled with panic.

I managed to turn halfway around, thanks to his warning, but by then it was too late. A heavy blow, like a mallet, exploded my head in pain, and everything disappeared into blackness.

* * *

**TBC.....(*laughs insanely at the horrified look that just crossed your face* I did warn you.)....**


	17. Trapped

**A/N: Here it is. The longest chapter and also climax of the whole fic. Here is where the truth comes to light (some of it), as well as a matter of life and death. Will Edmund and Corin survive this horrendous encounter with evil? Will Cair Paravel be thrust into the reign of a tyrannical madman? Where is Aslan in this darkest hour of need? *grins* It would be too easy to just tell you. Read on and find out! **

* * *

_--Chapter 17: Trapped--_

When I came to, the first thing I was aware of was the terrible ache in my head. I moaned, and as I shifted my weight, noticed that my hands were behind my back in a most uncomfortable position. I tried to move them but found that they were tied.

_Tied? With rope?_

Then I remembered what had been happening before the blackness. That jerked me all the way awake. I opened my eyes slowly, just enough to see where I was. Darkness. I opened them a bit more. After a moment, I realized that I was still in the stable. The horsy smell was unmistakable, and I could just make out one of the stall doors in front of me.

I tried to sit up. At the sudden movement I felt a sharp, shooting pain pierce my temple like an arrow. I moaned aloud as it spread through the rest of my head, throbbing with pain at the spot where the heavy blow had knocked me into darkness.

"Ed?"

"Since when do you call me 'Ed'?" I said, quite clearly for someone who had just been hit on the head with a large, heavy object.

"Since I found that both 'King' and 'Edmund' are too long to shout when the person you're shouting at is being attacked."

I turned at the sound of the voice. The fog of pain cleared for an instant, replaced by an acute relief in my mind at the sight of Prince Corin, who was on the ground a few feet away, staring at me anxiously.

"You're awake," he murmured, similar relief filling his bright eyes. "I thought they had killed you."

"Corin! What's going on?" I hissed, wincing at the dryness of my throat.

Corin glanced over his shoulder, and then turned back to me. His hands were bound as mine were.

"When King Gavin was distracting you, Reth sneaked up from behind and hit you with a shovel. I tried to warn you, but…"

I flinched and looked away. The rope bit into my wrists, and I struggled to find the knot, hoping that I might be able to untie it. The sound of a horse's shrill whinny filled my ears. Then I heard a man's voice speaking to the horse softly. I recognized it as the voice of Reth, the stable boy. After that there was silence.

"I'm such an idiot for coming alone," I muttered, gritting my teeth as the pain in my head turned to dizziness. "How long was I unconscious?"

The prince's brow furrowed as he tried to remember.

"It's only been a few minutes. Why? Do you have a previous engagement that you can't possibly miss?"

Corin offered me a weak grin as encouragement, and I almost smiled back.

"Laughing in the face of danger, eh?"

Corin grinned again, this time a bit more convincingly.

"Always. Danger is my middle name, you know."

"Funny. I thought it was 'Trouble'."

Corin giggled slightly, but then winced, his grin disappearing.

"Are you all right?" I asked him, instantly concerned as I sat up—a bit more slowly this time.

Corin nodded, but then he grimaced and glanced down.

"I think so. My arm hurts."

My heart ached at the look on his face. I clenched my teeth and tore viciously at the knot with my fingers, which were beginning to numb.

"This is all my fault," I moaned, berating myself inwardly. "How could I have been so…so _stupid_? Can you ever forgive me, Corin," I added, giving him an apologetic look. "I treated you awfully …and you were right all along!"

"Of course," he replied with a quick grin, not specifying whether he was accepting my apology or agreeing that he had been right, though it was likely both.

"I'll get us out of here," I said with a grunt, struggling against the knot more ferociously. "I almost have it."

"You may not have to," Corin replied, shifting his gaze to someone who was behind me. "Just keep quiet for a few more seconds. And don't look behind you."

I felt a pair of strong fingers struggling with the rope that bound my hands behind my back. I tried to heed Corin's warning, but I couldn't resist the overpowering curiosity that came across me, and turned to see who our rescuer might be.

"Fio!"

The minstrel girl gave me a silencing glare and kept working the knot.

"What are you doing here? If they catch you, you're as good as dead! Go…get out of here while there's still time."

Fio raised an eyebrow at me, and then smiled.

"As it is, King Edmund," she whispered with a mischievous smile, "you're not exactly in the position to give orders. And there's no hope for you and Corin unless someone helps you."

"Then help Corin. Untie him first and get him away from here," I hissed, my head pounding with fear, joy that one of us might get away, and pain.

Fio paused and gave me a grim smile.

"But if I untie Corin first, how can you protect him when our enemies return?"

I hesitated, but then nodded, understanding her reason, and reluctantly shifted my weight to allow her easier access to my hands. In a few moments, she had picked the knot loose. I felt the rope come free, and almost gasped aloud with the wonderful freedom that my shoulders felt at last. I rubbed my wrists experimentally, and then reached for where my sword should be. Not there, of course. Fio noticed this action, and looked toward the stable door.

"They'd catch you if you tried to escape through the door. You could sneak into one of the stalls—"

She stopped as we heard footsteps echoing in the aisle. I grabbed the rope and looped it loosely around my hands, tying a simple knot in the hopes that they wouldn't noticed that I was untied. As the footsteps approached, Fio dove for a nearby stall.

"Don't worry, Corin," I whispered encouragingly, inching a bit closer to him, "Aslan is with us."

The prince smiled, but then stiffened as his eyes strayed to something behind me. I turned, and saw, with growing apprehension, that King Gavin stood there, surveying the two of us triumphantly.

"_Aslan_," he scoffed. "Do you Narnians really believe in that myth?"

I turned as well as I could to face him, glaring fiercely. Before I could speak up, though, Corin spat out an answer.

"The Narnians—and the Archenlanders with them."

I barely caught myself in time to suppress the ridiculous urge to grin at this. That was Corin: so determined and reckless that he hardly gave a thought to the consequences of what he did or said. I feared that the consequences to this hastily thrown comment would invoke violence from the Galmian king, which would, in turn, set Fio into action; but instead, Gavin threw back his head and guffawed.

"Listen to the little prince," he hissed, halting his laughter instantly when he realized that we might be overheard; he stepped closer to Corin and sneered down at him. "So brave and courageous. But he won't feel so good when he finds himself dead, will he?"

I started forward, but a sudden blow to the side of my head sent me spinning.

"None of that, your highness," said a low voice from behind me. "We don't want any trouble. If you two behave, then maybe—just maybe—we'll kill you quick and painlessly."

I turned as well as I could and spat in Reth's general direction.

"Traitor," I choked. "Coward. You would kill a boy—a mere boy—in order to ensure your escape."

Reth grinned broadly, showing me a row of very white teeth.

"Seems to me," he said, giving me a superior look, "that you were once a traitor too. If I were you, your Majesty, I would speak for myself."

"How fortunate that you are not me," I retorted, raising an eyebrow and trying to regain some of my lost composure.

Reth merely smiled nastily and leaned against the stall door.

"Not yet," he stated, an eager gleam entering his eyes as he watched me.

My blood turned to ice at the tone in his voice, and the calm assurance as well. Behind him, Fio's face leaned forward to hear better from the dark recesses of the stall into which she had escaped.

"What do you mean?"

Gavin stepped slightly away from Corin, approaching me with a sly smile.

"Aye, King Edmund. There's the rub. Now we get to the bottom of everything. The bottom of this whole ploy. Do you think that we don't know your brother is on his way here at this instant? That in but a few minutes, he will come bursting through that door," he pointed his dagger at the stable door, "and fall upon us?"

I swallowed the fear that rose in my throat and glanced at Corin.

"Than all of this…Irwin and the poison…your conference in the garden…Corin tracking Reth …"

"Were to lead us—and the High King—into a trap!" Corin finished, eyes flickering around the stable nervously.

Gavin threw back his head and laughed.

"What investigating for such young detectives!" he roared, patting the youthful prince's head.

Corin responded by biting the man's hand viciously. Gavin let out an outraged yelp and struck the boy's jaw, knocking him a few feet back. I was so furious that I could've blistered the king with my stare.

"Wicked brat!" Gavin hissed, kicking at Corin angrily. "When I kill you, I will be sure to savor the moment!"

For once, Corin didn't reply with a blazing retort. Instead, he winked at me—_winked_!—and put on a sorrowful expression.

"Please don't kill me, sir," he whimpered, lowering his eyes. "I didn't mean to get caught up in all this mess."

"Neither did King Edmund, here," Reth said. "Nor his 'High King' of a brother, I'd wager."

I pretended to struggle furiously with my bonds, hoping that Corin was trying to stall them. A dark bruise was forming on the lad's jaw where he had been struck, and I wasn't sure that the pained expression on his face was completely faked. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fio, creeping away, toward the stable door. My heart leapt. She was going to warn the others.

"How do you know that Peter is coming?" I asked, making a show of fighting the ropes that bound me. "Perhaps I didn't tell him."

Reth snickered.

"Oh really, Sire," he remarked with a sly smile. "_Not_ tell your worrywart of a brother? He'd be troubled to death if you were nowhere to be found; and of course you had to warn him, through your sister, about the murderer who was trying to escape by way of the stable."

The look that crossed my face was one of genuine astonishment. I risked a quick glance at Fio; she was almost at the door. My eyes widened as I turned back to the stable boy, and then I shook my head, not understanding.

"How do you know all this?"

A wicked leer twisted Reth's thin lips, but then he straightened and stood before me fully. Then, Reth did what seemed to be the oddest thing in the world to do at that moment: he bowed. It was a low, courtly bow, one that seemed oddly familiar. It was as he straightened, and I saw the smug, superior, hateful expression on his face that I realized the truth.

"You're Lord Ther!"

Reth's smile became bitter, and he nodded easily.

"Yes. 'Lord' Ther." He paced over to the wall and then back again, not looking at me. "I was one of the first conspirators in King Gavin's plans. The King needed someone on the outside, who could be inconspicuous and fit right in among the servants—even the kitchen staff. That's how that boy was poisoned, by the way. I did it the first time."

"I thought I recognized you," Corin muttered, mostly to himself.

"But Gavin also needed someone on the inside," Ther continued, ignoring Corin. "Someone who could get into the enemy's confidence and determine exactly what they were going to do."

He spread out his arms with a light smile that removed any shadow of a doubt in my mind that he was Ther.

"And that person was me. I arrived with the King's court, and your dear sister did her part, though unwittingly, and fell in love with me."

My blood turned to ice, as I realized the full meaning of this statement.

_He must've learned about Peter through Susan! But how can that be? Corin was trailing Reth, and told Susan that he would meet me here at the stables. He had Reth in full sight the whole time; so how could he have learned that Peter was coming _after_ I told Susan?_

Ther must have read the expression on my face quite easily, for he smiled superiorly, and let out short laugh.

"That was the reason I was so late in returning to the stable—though just in time to catch you in the act of attacking King Gavin, it seems. Your dear sister was on her way to warn your brother and his men when I saw her running through the courtyard."

I clenched my teeth, restraining my anger as best I could, and tried desperately not to snarl at the man.

"What have you done to her?"

Ther raised an eyebrow at me, and then shook his head at me, as one would a child that did not understand.

"Why nothing. Nothing at all your highness. Yet. And so now she will warn your brother and his 'army', and send them here—to the stable. But we will be ready for them."

"You will die quite soon," Gavin remarked casually, glancing at the stable doors. "Your brother does take his time when rescuing you, doesn't he, King Edmund?"

I glared balefully at the Galmian King.

"Die?" I asked, hoping to stall a little longer. "Who's going to kill us?"

"Why me, of course," King Gavin replied in the same casual tone.

"You and what army?" Corin countered, glowering fiercely at both our enemies.

Ther gave him an amused glance, and then gave a shrill whistle that made my aching head throb. The back door of the stable swung open, and in filed dozens of men, silent and smooth in their movements. Most of them carried bows, with quivers slung on their backs; but a few, about twenty, carried swords, handling them like they were masters.

_They probably _are_ masters, _I thought, my heart trembling at the thought of what was soon to occur under this roof. _Be careful, Peter. Oh Aslan, let Peridan be especially cautious this time!_

Ther turned back to Corin and gave him a triumphant grin.

"This army. The Galmian army, newly arrived from a secret compartment in our ship."

Not hesitating for an instant, Corin spat at the man's boots.

"You're a coward, a traitor, and a liar," the prince shouted. "Your trap will NEVER work! King Peter would NEVER fall for it! He'll—"

Ther leapt forward and grabbed Corin, muffling his cries with a large, calloused hand.

"Trying to warn the others, are you?" asked Gavin, smiling grimly as Ther tossed Corin to the ground. "Plucky lad."

He gave me a nervous glare.

"Now don't you start up. I won't hesitate to kill you if you do so much as cough."

I nodded, and then turned to glare at Ther, who was ripping a piece of material off his tunic. With ungentle hands, he shoved the fabric into Corin's mouth, making a sort of gag to keep him from shouting another warning. I would gladly have shouted an alarm to warn my brother and his warriors, even if it meant my death, but I knew that now was not the time. They weren't close enough to hear. Not yet.

"Just one question," I said, not having to pretend the half-frantic tone in my voice as I stared up at the Galmian king, "why? Why are you doing all this? I thought you wanted an _alliance_ with Narnia…not _control_ of it. If you lose this fight, you'll lose everything you've worked for with your daughter's marriage to Peter."

Gavin snorted and shook his head slowly. I saw a hint of desperation enter his eyes.

"Yes. Iliea's marriage. It was a futile hope at the best. We in Galma know how many princesses try for the High King's hand."

"Then it was a ruse," I finished, genuinely surprised. "It was a way to get into the castle and into Peter's confidence."

Gavin nodded reluctantly, looking a half-bit regretful for a moment.

"Poor Iliea. Unfortunately we knew from the start that such a match would not do."

"And the Adder's Blood in the kitchen was meant for Peter…you were going to kill us all off—one by one? And then when Peter and I were gone, you would bring out your army and defeat my sisters in their vulnerability." I was throwing out any ideas now, trying to stall and get as much of a confession from the villain as I could.

Gavin nodded again, but this time with a smile.

"You're quite the detective for such a young king. Fortunately it will never leave these stables. You will die quite soon, your highness, as will your brother. And then Narnia will be mine at last."

I opened my mouth again to speak, but it shut with a snap as soon as I saw two people in the doorway. One of the men approached us, half carrying and half dragging a struggling captive. I gave a cry of dismay when I saw that his prisoner was Fio.

"Well, well," said the king, as the soldier threw my friend to the floor. "What have we here? The little minstrel girl—a friend of yours, King Edmund?"

I clenched my teeth and tried desperately to remain calm, but this situation kept going from bad to worse. Fio obviously hadn't gotten to Peter with the warning, for she gave me an apologetic look, and then flinched as Gavin grabbed her arm and wrenched her to her feet.

"You've been spying on us, haven't you, my dear?" the king asked with a dangerous gleam in his eyes, though his voice was calm. "Do you know the punishment spies receive in Galma?"

Gavin glanced at Ther and jerked his head at the minstrel girl. Then he turned and began speaking quietly with one of the soldiers.

Fio shrank back as Ther approached, his sword drawn. I slipped my hands free from my loosely tied bonds and prepared to make my move. I met Corin's gaze for an agonizing instant, before I moved, and gave him a nod. He was still gagged, of course, and couldn't speak, but his eyes said everything. It was the exact look that I had given Peter dozens of times before, and tears sprang to my eyes as I suddenly realized how close my 'adopted brother' had become, even through all my best efforts to convince myself otherwise. I truly hoped he would survive this ordeal.

Ther placed his sword's point on Fio's delicate neck, just below her chin. I inched toward them, teeth gritted and muscles burning with adrenaline.

"You're not so bad looking as I first thought," Ther was saying, leering down at my friend. "It's a pity I have to kill you so soon after we've met."

Fio's eyes glared up at him, fear and anger intermingling. She truly wasn't like any other girl on earth. She had the grace of Susan and the valiance of Lucy, not to mention skill like Peter and wit to match mine. What a friend! She looked my way just before I leapt at Ther, and our eyes met for one long second.

And then I sprang. Ther turned halfway before I crashed into him, sending both of us sprawling to the stable floor. His sword clattered a few feet away. Ther scrabbled for it, but I grabbed his arm and pulled back to punch him.

Before I could strike, a rush of dizziness overcame me, and I paused. Ther took the opportunity to connect his fist with my jaw, a cracking blow. I swayed back from the force of the clout, but as Ther lunged for his sword, I caught his arm again and managed to land a solid punch in his stomach. Fio screamed my name, but I didn't heed it. I was taking my vengeance on Ther; for trying to poison Peter, for wooing and using Susan, and for almost killing Fio and Corin.

Before I could land another blow, strong hands grabbed my arms and dragged me off of Ther. Someone struck me in the jaw, and I spun backwards.

I closed my eyes and slumped back weakly. My head throbbed with pain, so terrible now that I could hardly think straight. Then I heard the sound of hooves on cobblestones; swords being drawn; shouts and horns blowing.

_Peter and Peridan. It's time!_

"RUN, Pete! RUN! It's a TRAP!" I screamed, jerking away from my captors frantically in time to shout a desperate warning. "STAY AWAY!!! TRAP!"

Something hard hit my stomach, and I folded over with a pained gasp as the air rushed from my lungs. I looked up, and suddenly everything was perfectly clear. It was like a dream; everything moved incredibly slowly.

Before me stood King Gavin. His thin lips were twisted into a snarl, most of his teeth showing, and his dark green eyes flashed angrily.

"I should've killed you the moment you set foot in this stable," he whispered, cursing and glaring furiously at me. "But even if I die today in this battle, at least the minstrels will sing of great King Gavin, who took one of the Prophesied Kings of Narnia with him to the grave."

Gavin drew his sword. The din of battle surrounded us now; the Narnians seemed to have entered the stable, and were now fighting with the Galmian men. I couldn't see Peter or Peridan.

With a strange, victorious smile, Gavin twirled his sword in a tight circle, and then drove it forward.

"Die!" he hissed, eyes bright and teeth flashing white.

I felt something hit my stomach. From behind me, I heard Fio scream, "NO!" I had the vaguest feeling of pain. My legs gave way, and I fell to the ground. Everything was so lucid; the colors so bright, but then everything blurred before my eyes, falling away so quickly…

"Edmund!" shouted Corin's voice from somewhere above. "Ed! No!"

_I wonder how he got un-gagged_, I wondered faintly. _I thought I told him not to call me Ed._

The pain increased, and I became vaguely aware that it came from my stomach. I glanced down as well as I could, and saw, even in the dim light of the stable, that a section of my tunic was darker than it had been, and seemed to be wet. I touched it. My fingers came away red.

_Blood_, I thought weakly, my last conscious thought before everything faded into darkness. _I'm bleeding…Pete…_

* * *

_**TBC........**_


	18. Yea though I walk

**A/N: This is the chapter that I would like to dedicate to my King, the true Aslan. How many times are we thrust into a dark, scary world of which we know nothing, and are kept sane only by the knowledge that we are not alone in our travels? In this chapter, a contrast to the previous in which he was stabbed by the evil Galmian King Gavin, Edmund finds himself in a place of contentment, and begins to understand that Aslan has a plan for even a summer filled with miscreants and murderers...**

* * *

_--Chapter 18: Yea Though I Walk--_

The only other time I remember being in such completely isolated darkness was when I was stabbed by the White Witch. It was like that now. I had the same biting pain in my stomach. The blackness was stifling. I shivered at an icy bite that hung in the air.

But then, before I really had time to be frightened, the blackness and the pain both melted away like ice under the sun. I blinked and looked around. I was on a sandy beach. The sea was to my right, the edges of it filmed in a mist that I could not see past. Surf broke gently on the sand.

Several large rocks were strewn here and there along the beach. To my left, opposite the waterline, a tall cliff stretched up and up, so far up that when I looked to see if there was even a top my head spun. I walked over to one of the rocks and rested against it, staring at the breaking waves and wondering where I was.

After a while, the pleasant calmness began to grow on me. Unconsciously, I began to smile as the peaceful rhythm of the water soothed my aching head. The mist wafted in and around me on a gentle breeze. Light gray clouds hung overhead, hiding me from the bright light of whatever sun lurked behind them. I stared out to sea, half-hoping to see some sign or sail of a ship.

At last, my natural curiosity kicked in, and I began analyzing my surroundings. I could not see past the mist on the sea. I could not see the top of the cliff. I looked up and down the beach, and discovered that darkness lay on each side of the halcyon coast. Finally, I glanced down at the sand, and noticed, to my surprise, that there was a pair of footprints in the sand not far from mine.

Or paw prints, rather.

The marks were huge; I knelt and spread out my hand, and when I pushed in inside the giant print, none of my fingers touched the sand outside the mark the paw had made.

_It looks like a cat print_, I thought absently. _A giant cat? A tiger perhaps, or a lion…_

"_The_ Lion," I whispered, my heart beginning to beat more quickly as the thought entered my mind. "Aslan?"

"Son of Adam."

I turned slowly and faced the High King above All Kings. He seemed to glow with a brighter gold here than he was in Narnia, but that may have due to the fact that all the colors here in this shadow of a land were so grey and dull.

"Where am I, Aslan?" I asked, kneeling and feeling with a thrill of awe the Lion's warm breath whisper through my heavy locks.

Aslan met my gaze with his staid, golden eyes and smiled, almost sadly.

"In the Valley of the Shadow, my son," he answered, the sound of his voice transferring warmth and courage to my heart.

I swallowed the fear that was growing in my heart, and shook my head.

"I don't understand? Is this in Narnia? Am I back in England?"

"Nay, my child," the Great Lion replied patiently. "You are asleep."

"Asleep?"

The glint of Gavin's sword flashed through my mind, and I began to understand.

"Dead."

The thought, which would have made my blood turn to ice at any other time, meant almost nothing at all. I was calm; unmoved by this revelation. I couldn't have been afraid or angry if I'd wanted to. It was part of the magic of that place, I think.

Aslan watched me with knowing eyes, shining as the sun, and then breathed on me.

"Return, my son," he commanded, his deep voice making my heart leap. "It is not yet your time."

Strangely, my eyes filled with tears.

"Must I go back?"

The Lion nodded gravely.

"Your brother and sisters -and another who is not quite a brother- have need of you still. You have not yet finished the work that I mean you to do."

My heart sank, but I couldn't feel too sad; not here.

"Please, Aslan," I said, as the High King above all Kings stepped toward me, preparing to take me back. "Am I really dead?"

He smiled gently, and began to blow, his warm breath blowing away all the gray of the beach and the cliffs.

_"You…are…asleep…"_

_Asleep…asleep…asleep,_ the word resounded in my mind until it faded away into silence. Then, quite clearly, I heard another voice, sharp and loud in my ear.

"Is he _still_ asleep?"

I flinched. The voice was so piercing after the silence of that beach, and Aslan's strong, but quiet tones.

"Quiet, Corin. You might wake him."

_Lucy,_ I thought, hearing her familiar voice with a start. _And Corin_.

I opened my eyes, and then immediately regretted the action. The light, contrasted with the gray, soothing colors of the beach, was so gaudy and bright. I blinked, trying to get accustomed to normal sight again.

"Edmund?"

I looked to my right. A golden haired girl with bright blue eyes was staring at me expectantly.

_Lucy_.

"Oh Ed, you're alright!"

My sister leaned forward and gave me a swift hug around the neck. I tried to sit up and return the squeeze, but a sharp pain in my stomach made me stop short and relax against the cushion of the bed with a groan.

"What happened?" I moaned, glancing down at my stomach. It was wrapped in white bandages that were soaked through with blood.

Lucy ignored my question. As usual.

"Oh Peter, Peter he's awake!" she exclaimed, leaping up and dancing to the door.

Again, I winced at the loud noise of her voice, closing my eyes. I heard the sound of footsteps on the stone floor, and then felt a strong hand on my shoulder.

"Ed? You're awake? You're alright?"

My eyes opened again, and I found myself staring at two worried blue eyes, several hues darker than Lu's, set in a concerned face.

"I'm fine, Peter," I replied wearily.

Some of the concern eased out of my brother's expression, and he smiled in relief.

"Thank the Lion, Edmund! For the past two days you've been on the brink of death and we didn't know what to do! And what with Lucy's cordial being missing we didn't know whether we could save you or not and—"

Peter stopped short, a haunted guilt darkening his eyes.

"I can't believe I let this happen. I should've listened to your warnings and done something when Lucy's cordial disappeared. And to think that you almost died…"

I almost groaned aloud as he let his words trail off unfinished. My good old, selfishly responsible older brother was back. But I wasn't about to let him blame it all on himself.

"No, Peter," I replied firmly. "It's not your fault. I should have told you my suspicions. And," I glanced over at Corin, who was grinning at me, "I should have listened to Corin."

The prince's eyes twinkled, and he punched me gently on the shoulder.

"Told you it was Gavin. Or I would've if you'd listened to me that day."

I nodded sheepishly and then turned to Peter with a curious look.

"Speaking of Gavin, what happened to him? Is he…"

"He's still alive," Peter replied. "A trial will be held as soon as you are well enough to attend."

"What about Reth…I mean, Lord…I mean, _Ther_?"

Peter's face darkened.

"You mean _he_ was involved in this?"

My eyes widened in the realization that they didn't know, and I jerked my head impatiently.

"Yes! Where is he?"

Peter sighed and shrugged with a shake of his head.

"He was not among the dead. He's not in the castle anywhere. We'll have to assume that he escaped and fled the country."

"And he could've been in the dungeon, safe and sound, if you'd listened to me," Corin put in exasperatingly, suddenly bored with our conversation.

I met his gaze and smiled at his impatience. "Yes, I know. Remind me next time that you're a better detective than I am."

Corin raised a slender eyebrow at me.

"Of course I'm better. You're a stuffy old adult who's at least three times my age."

"Only a little more than twice," I replied, frowning slightly, and then realizing he was joking. "And I'm not stuffy—or old for that matter. That's Peter you're thinking of."

I grinned at my brother, and then noticed the strange stare and frown he was giving me. My grin faded slowly.

"Peter…it was a joke."

He raised a confused eyebrow and gave me a look almost identical to the one I must've once given Corin.

"A joke?"

Corin and I exchanged an amused glace, and then burst out laughing.

"What?" Lucy asked from her chair. "Did I miss something?"

"No," I said, snickering once more, my eyes twinkling like Corin's as I turned back to my two bewildered siblings. "It's just something our dear Corin has taught me. Do you realize—my dear brother and sister—that we are desperately in need of humor here at the Cair?"

-------------------------------------------------

After cracking a few more jokes with Corin, and convincing my siblings that I was not going to die without warning, I settled back into my bed and stared at the ceiling of my room. It felt so strange…I could almost hear Aslan's voice in my head, telling me it wasn't my time to die.

"Edmund?"

I heard Susan's voice coming from the direction of the doorway. Quick footsteps resounded off the stone floors and reached my ears. I sat up, and was instantly taken captive by a warm embrace, gentler than Peter's and longer lasting than Lu's had been.

"Oh Ed, I was so worried about you!"

My sister squeezed me tightly for a moment. I let her. At last, she pulled back and looked me over with careful blue-green eyes that didn't miss a thing.

"You're all right? Does your wound cause you any pain? Do you want something to drink? How do you feel?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes toward heaven.

_Lion's mane, she sounds more like Mum every day. Wonder why I'm not bothered._

"Yes, no, no, and hungry."

Her hands gripped my shoulders like she didn't want to let go, and suddenly her pale cheeks flushed with color.

"What did you think you were doing? You could've been killed in that stable! Why didn't you wait for Peter instead of blundering in and getting captured yourself?"

"Yes, and let Corin die alone there, and letting Gavin escape and get away with what he's done."

My voice was laced with angry sarcasm, and Susan noticed it. She blushed and cast Corin an apologetic glance.

"I'm sorry, Ed. I didn't mean to nag at you…I'm just…I was just so…"

Her eyes filled with tears, and she hugged me again, her wet cheeks touching mine for a second.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Su."

She pulled back again and sniffed, apparently unconscious of the stares of our siblings and Corin.

"Can you…can you ever forgive me for being so cross and so…blinded by romance? You were right about Ther all along, and he almost…"

She stopped, swallowing tears. I put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"All's well, Su," I said softly. "Aslan's watching out for us. But really, I'm the one who should be asking for forgiveness. I shouldn't have ignored your warnings."

Susan gave me a grateful look, and then passed her sleeve across her eyes.

"That you shouldn't have."

I glanced quickly at Corin, and then returned my gaze to my sister with a mischievous sparkle in my eyes.

"And as for being cross…well, I'm sure it was just your imagination. After all, Lion knows you're _never _cross."

As I watched the all-too-familiar bewildered expression cross Susan's face, I groaned and gave Corin an exasperated look.

"We've got a lot of joking to do to get some laughter back into the Cair," I said with a grin.

Corin nodded mischievously.

"Just leave it to me."

He grinned, and I wondered.

* * *

_**TBC...........**_


	19. Justice

**A/N: This is the last suspenseful chapter in this fic (and it's not really suspenseful at all). The other two are mainly humor again. You know...Corin, Edmund, Fio, apples...yeah. ;) Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing so far! I continue to be amazed at how well this fic has done (though I hoped it would!). Even though most of the suspense is gone, there's still a surprise left. So instead of continuing to read this authort's not, please, enjoy the fic! **

_--Chapter 19: Justice--_

Three days later, when my overprotective siblings were _finally _convinced that my wound was well enough for me to get up and move about, I decided to attend King Gavin's trial. Corin was supposed to 'escort' me to the throne room, but seemed to have disappeared (it might have been that due to the number of pranks he'd played during the last three days, he was afraid to show his face.). Susan and Lucy took his place, one on each side of me; both were convinced that I couldn't walk on my own.

I eventually made my way past my subjects, all concerned for my health, to my throne. Glancing around, I noticed Princess Iliea and Prince Eric standing at the front of the crowd that had gathered to witness the trial. Fio was there also, standing beside her uncle and watching me with a worried look. King Lune was there, too, but Corin was nowhere in sight.

_Little bugger,_ I thought grumpily, swallowing my nervousness at being this near to Gavin. _I hope he's not planning another blasted prank. I had no idea anyone could pull so many in three days!_

After a few preliminary speeches and other such rot, the doors opened, and the guards entered with the Galmian king.

They marched him forward to the place of judgment in front of the Four Thrones. The guards shoved Gavin to his knees. His head was bowed as he stared down at the floor.

"Lord Gavin."

Peter's voice rang out loud and clear through the Great Hall. Gavin raised his head slowly, and his eyes met mine. I shuddered involuntarily at the stark hatred in his green gaze.

"You…you're alive!" the King of Galma snarled. "But how?"

"That is not the point," Peter replied sharply. He sent me a quick, worried look, and continued when I nodded reassuringly. "You have violated the peace treaty between Narnia and Galma. You have betrayed our trust, and have directly attempted to murder our royal brother—and the rest of us as well. Do you deny the charges?"

Gavin glared furiously at me, eyes smoldering. At first, he did not reply. But then, he turned his chilling gaze to my brother.

"I do not deny them."

Peter's hand gripped the arm rest of his throne, and he cleared his throat before making the proclamation.

"Then, Gavin of Galma, your fate lies in our hands. Galma is now a Narnian province, and we shall instate a governor within the week. But now…" my brother glanced at me. "Now King Edmund shall declare judgment."

"Me?" The word was barely a whisper, but both Peter and Gavin heard it.

Peter immediately realized the problem, and stood quickly, glancing at the guards.

"Hold the prisoner. We must talk amongst ourselves, and will continue in a moment."

Susan and Lucy stood as well, and strode over to my throne. My three siblings gathered around me, and Peter lowered his voice to a whisper.

"What's wrong, Ed? You know it's your duty to declare the verdict."

"But Pete…" I glanced across at Gavin, "I'm just not sure I can this time."

"Can what?" Lucy asked, looking puzzled.

"Make the right choice."

I met each of my siblings' gazes one by one. Lucy's bright blue, Susan's green-blue, and Peter's grey-blue eyes. They were all filled with loyal reassurance and faith in me that I would do the right thing.

"Of course you will, Ed," Susan said, patting my shoulder lovingly. "You always do."

"But he tried to kill me," I said, anger rising as I stared into Gavin's dark green eyes. "I'm not sure my judgment is very trustworthy right now."

Peter gazed into my eyes and put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Do what you determine to be right, brother," he said quietly. "No one would blame you if you sentenced Gavin to death. It's your choice. Aslan be with you."

He turned and beckoned to the others.

"Come. We must not keep poor Gavin waiting."

My sisters stepped carefully back to their seats; Lu sent me one last reassuring glance before I stood, staring down at Lord Gavin.

"We have reviewed your case, Lord Gavin, and have determined a verdict," I stated, thanking Aslan that my voice remained steady. "The penalty shall be…"

Gavin was glaring right at me, ready to take whatever punishment I declared. I hesitated.

_What should I say? Does he deserve to die for murder…well, attempted murder? _

One part of me said yes, that he did deserve to die. Gavin had tried to kill Peter, for heaven's sake, and the rest of us too! He had intentionally stabbed me with his blade, planning to take my life. Why should he not receive death for his sin?

But then…does any man _deserve_ death? I had deserved death, but Aslan had given me life; a second chance. I felt torn in two.

"The penalty shall be…"

I glanced at Peter for help, but he offered none. He merely gave me a nod and waited patiently, along with all the other Narnians in the Hall.

"Get on with it, boy," Gavin croaked.

-

I took a deep breath. Here it was. The moment of decision. The time when all I had been taught about right and wrong—as well as justice—finally came into play. But here I was at the crossroads with no idea whatsoever what the correct choice was. I closed my eyes and prayed most fervently that Aslan would give me direction.

"Banishment." The word seemed to come from somewhere deep inside of me, from a place that I didn't know existed. "Banishment for life from Narnia, Archenland, the Islands, and all their provinces. You have five days to leave the country. We will provide you with a horse and enough money to begin a new life, but you must go and never return. The same sentence stands for those involved in the attempted murders and take over of Cair Paravel, namely, Lord Ther, who has escaped custody, and not including Lord Irwin, who has been cleared by Gavin's confession."

Iliea swooned with a sharp cry; Eric looked away quietly, but I glimpsed his eyes, filled with pain. Gavin's eyes lit up for a moment, as if hope had been presented when all he had expected was death. But then, as the words sank in, the light in his eyes faded.

"My children?"

I swallowed, but chose not to glance at Peter again.

"The offer of your daughter, the Princess Iliea, in marriage to the High King is now void." I could've sworn Peter let out a tiny sigh of relief. "Your children may stay or go as they please. It is not they who did the wrong."

Gavin nodded silently, and began to stand. However, a shout from the door made all of us jump, and Corin flew in the room, breathless and red faced.

"I _found _it!" he crowed, knocking over a dwarf and almost trampling three talking mice and a mole in his haste to reach the dais. "I _knew _I would find it!"

"Corin!" King Lune rose from his seat, red-faced with embarrassment. "Come down from there! Does not thy highness know that it is not fitting to come barging in during a trial! Shame, lad!"

Corin ignored his father's chastening, and scampered forward, dodging a guard and jumping up onto the dais. He reached Lucy within seconds, breathing hard, and thrust something into her hands.

"I told you I would find it," he told her, his face and eyes aglow.

Lucy let out a sharp cry.

"My cordial!" She turned to Corin quickly and grabbed his arm before he could escape. "Where did you find this?!"

"In the Orchard. She—"

Corin turned to face the crowd of people who were now murmuring excitedly, and seemed to be looking for someone. Finally, he found the face he was looking for.

"_She_ took it," he shouted, pointing at Princess Iliea, who was just now recovering from her swoon. When Corin pointed at her, she almost fainted again.

"What?" Susan and Peter shouted in unison. My oldest sister grabbed Corin's arm and stared into his eyes.

"Are you sure, Corin? You're not telling a lie?" she asked in a voice that sounded _incredibly_ like Mum's.

Corin nodded fervently, and then turned to look at me.

"I'm sure it was her; I saw her do it. I swear…" he glanced at me, and then held up his head proudly, as he declared, "I swear by the Lion's Mane!"

Susan gasped and sank back into her chair. Lucy stared numbly at her bottle of cordial in her hands. Peter stood stiffly by his throne, staring woodenly at Iliea, who appeared to be on the verge of fainting again. I stayed where I was, merely watching the whole thing play out.

"You…you are sure it was Princess Iliea," Peter said slowly to Corin.

The prince nodded.

"I saw her face and everything," he replied, blue eyes very serious.

"I deny the charges!"

Iliea was on her feet now, face pale with anger and eyes blazing.

"What reason would I have to steal Queen Lucy's cordial! Besides, I've never even been to the apple orchard the prince _insists_ he found the cordial in."

Peter stared first at Corin, and then at Iliea.

"It's your word against hers, Corin," he told the lad softly. "Are you sure you're not just making this whole thing up?"

"I swear I'm not!" Corin shouted, flushing red at being called a liar. "It's true!"

At last, I stood silently. The eyes of the court turned to me, for as King Edmund the Just, I was the one who decided upon such matters. Peter turned and looked at me helplessly, shrugging and sighing as he plopped down into his throne, head in his hands.

"Please, Ed."

"With your permission, Lady Iliea," I said coldly, "may I ask you a question?"

"You may," the princess said, meeting my gaze with furious blue eyes.

"Prince Corin mentioned that the cordial was hidden in the Orchard. How did you know that he was talking about the _apple_ orchard if you did not hide the cordial?"

Iliea paled, and the anger vanished from her eyes, replaced by fear.

"I…I guessed?" she supplied hesitatingly, though now that her lie was in the open, it was more of a fearful question than a defiant statement.

I glanced at Peter, and found, to my surprise, that he was smiling.

"You are henceforth banished from our realm, on grounds of assisting in attempted murder, and in stealing from your hosts in the most abhominable fashion."

"But I—"  
"Silence!"

To my surprise, it was Susan who was on her feet, glaring angrily at Iliea. Both her slender hands were clenched, and her face was pale with fury.

"We trusted you among us, and you betrayed our trust. It is our right to determine your judgment. Do any in the court disagree?"

No one answered. My eyes turned to Eric, who was on his feet as well and looking rather pale. When he noticed my gaze, he bowed nobly, if not a bit shakily.

"I will accept the punishment of my father and sister, your Majesty; for though I did not take part in their dealings, I am not yet free to leave my father's side."

I nodded my assent, somewhat surprised, yet also appreciative of the lad's gallantry. Even though his father had done wrong, he would still stand by his side, loyal to the end. I turned and faced Lord Peridan, the Captain of the Royal Guard.

"Escort Lord Gavin, Lady Iliea to their apartments. Appoint a guard to stand watch, and see that they are given escort to the stables in the morning. As of now, they are stripped of their titles, and must begin anew, somewhere far away—" the next part under my breath, "—hopefully very far away—from here. Prince Eric," I glanced at him quickly, "is free to come and go as he pleases."

Eric thanked me with a grim smile. Gavin and Iliea were led away by the Castle guard, and court was adjourned.

"Ed, you were terrific!" Lucy squealed, diving forward and giving me a warm embrace once the majority of people had left the room.

I returned the hug and gave her a smile. At least I could always count on Lu to be enthusiastic about everything I did. But a moment later, as I stood beside my throne, the room began to spin. I suddenly felt quite dizzy, and sank down in my throne, hand to my head. Susan was instantly by my side.

"By the Lion, Edmund, you've gone pale! Is it your wound? I should have known we shouldn't have let you come today. Just…just calm down a bit…breathe deeply."

I leaned forward and put my head in my hands, breathing deeply as ordered. I was trembling, I realized after a moment. My hands shook, and my stomach roiled with nausea.

"He'll be all right, Su," Peter's voice said from somewhere above. "Just give him a minute."

Susan retreated a few steps away, and after a long moment, I felt Peter's strong hand on my shoulder. I looked up, and our eyes met. Regardless of his confident words to our sister, his eyes were filled with brotherly concern.

"Was I right?" The words leapt from my lips before I actually knew I was speaking them. Peter's brow furrowed in confusion as he studied my face.

"_Right_?"

"My decision. I…was it the right thing to do?"

Peter's face softened considerably, and he gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Only Aslan knows for sure, Ed, but I'm quite certain Gavin isn't going to argue with your choice."

I let out a breath that I hadn't known I'd been holding and returned my head to rest in my shaking hands.

"But still…I mean, what if I was wrong? What if it was the wrong thing to do? How can…how can you _know_?"

Peter shook his head slowly, watching me with the smallest hint of a smile.

"You're the one that's supposed to answer all the deep questions, my wise brother. Save it for your next encounter with Aslan."

"Perhaps I will," I muttered, giving him an affectionate glare. "You're a lot of help when it comes to this sort of thing, aren't you?"

Unexpectedly, Peter tweaked my nose—a thing he hadn't done since…well, since we were _kids_. I yelped and jumped back in my throne. My wound twinged with pain, and I winced. Then someone tickled—_tickled_—me from behind. I whirled around in the middle of another yelp, and came face to face with Corin, his freckled face smiling cheekily and his blue eyes gleaming.

"Don't ever do that again," I said, giving Corin a look that was quite similar to the glare I had just given Peter. "Never, ever again. Not if you value your life."

"That's right," Peter said with the biggest grin I'd seen on him in months. "For if you tickled King Edmund the Just, all our enemies in the land would learn that his weakness is not in his swordplay or stratagem, but in his ticklishness."

There was a look in both their eyes that I didn't like. As they inched toward me, I shrank into my throne, and shook my head frantically.

"Peter—Corin—don't even—_don't even think about it!_—"

They lunged simultaneously. Time blurred for a few moments, and then I heard Susan and Lucy as they pulled the two villains off of me. I had somehow ended up on the floor.

"Shame on you, Peter," Susan reproved him. "What's inside that handsome head of yours? Rock?"

My horrified laughter was fading, and I suddenly moaned at the pain in my side. Lucy knelt beside me.

"He's bleeding again! Really, you two," directing this at Peter and Corin, "you _might_ have remembered that he was wounded. Poor Ed."

I gave her a very grateful look. In moments she had her cordial out and had ripped of the cap. Tilting my head back, she let a drop fall between my lips.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then my wound blazed with pain. I clenched my teeth and waited. A second later, it was gone; everything. All the pain. Completely gone.

I sighed and rested my head on the floor. Lucy gave me a worried look, and squeezed my hand, saying, "What's wrong, Edmund? Isn't it working?"

"Working wonders," I replied with a smile. "It seems that I owe you my life yet again, fair sister."

She flushed with pleasure, and then giggled.

"So you're certain your wound is _completely_ healed?"

I nodded, not suspecting any foul play. "Yes."

Lucy turned to Peter and Corin, who were looking quite ashamed of themselves, and made a casual gesture to me.

"He's all right now. Just don't over-tickle him or he might lose his ticklishness altogether."

"What?!" I shouted, jerking into a sitting position.

Peter and Corin both smiled—predatorily. I shook my head and scrambled backwards.

"Susan! Don't let them! Peridan! King Lune! ANYONE!!!"

* * *

Susan watched as Corin circled around the back. In moments, Edmund was down in a giggling fit, laughing in a sort of terrified way. She smiled in spite of the day's events and turned to Lucy.

"Well, that's one way to get laughter back into the Cair."

* * *

**_TBC........._**


	20. Brothers

_--Chapter 20: Brothers--_

I went to see Lord Irwin the next day. He had been released after the trial the day before—having been proved innocent, for Gavin had admitted that Ther was the one who had switched goblets with mine. When I met the Lord Chancellor of Galma in his chambers, I was quite repentant and humble in bearing. I knew very well that the king who had been titled ' the just' should be more careful with his accusations, and I had been inexcusably reckless. Lord Irwin had every right to be angry—even vengeful—toward me.

"I have something I must say to you, my lord," I said, half dreading to meet his eyes when the heavy wooden door swung open before me. "Will you walk with me?"

His dark eyes stared penetratingly into mine, hard and stern; but he nodded, much to my surprise. I turned, and we walked together in silence through the halls of Cair Paravel. It wasn't until we reached the outside courtyard in which the maze garden had grown that I spoke at last.

"King Gavin and his daughter have confessed to everything. Gavin was the one with the whole plot in mind, I suppose, and it seems from his confession that you were not involved in the least. Just the scapegoat for the blame to fall upon. Gavin's Lord Ther was the one who poisoned the boy in the kitchen and then switched glasses with me while Gavin was distracting you. Iliea admits to having stolen the cordial from Lucy that night at the ball and hiding it in the orchard."

"And Ther?" Irwin asked grimly. "Is he in custody?'

I grimaced and shook my head regretfully.

"Unfortunately, no. He managed to escape. We sent out several rangers and knights to search for him…they'll chase him to Archenland and give him notice of his banishment."

Then I stopped, taking a deep breath and continuing without further hesitation.

"Lord Irwin, I have wronged you greatly."

Irwin gave me a sideways look, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him quite yet.

"I was wrong to make so hasty an accusation, based merely upon the fact that your ancestors were from Calormen. All the evidence we 'found' was false, and I happily believed in it, and your guilt, because it was what I wanted to believe."

At last I looked up at the Calormene Chancellor, and found that he was not looking at me. He was staring straight ahead, eyes cold and entire expression completely emotionless.

I had put the pieces of the false evidence together with the new, correct evidence during the few days I had been bedridden. The Adder's Blood in Irwin's saddlebag had been planted by Ther as Reth the stable boy. Gavin, Ther, and Iliea had all been in on the goblet poisoning, Gavin distracting Irwin as Ther traded my goblet for a poisoned one and then using Iliea's presence as a reason for his innocence. And as for the two voices I'd heard when returning to the world of the living, upon further consideration, I'd later recognized the first voice as Gavin's, obviously setting Irwin up for a suspicious line. It could've been about practically anything.

"I have dishonored you and your people in my swift condemnation, sir. I have no excuse other than my own stupidity and naïvety, and all I can do is lay my most contrite apologies before you and beg forgiveness."

A slight smile twisted Lord Irwin's lips. I grimaced. Apologizing was never an easy business. Never had been, as it meant laying aside my pride and dignity and humbling myself before someone else. Actually, as I reflected further on the concept, it was probably something that should be done more often. There were several Archenlandish and Narnian proverbs alike that went along the lines of "Pride and shame go hand in hand," and it had been the fault of my pride, my arrogance in believing I could not possibly be wrong, that had resulted in the shame I was feeling now.

_Perhaps,_ I thought, tapping my fingers on my thigh thoughtfully, that_ should be my goal for this next year. Less pride, more humility. Listen to what others have to say and don't be afraid to be proved wrong._

"King Edmund," said Lord Irwin suddenly, "I must admit that this was not what I was expecting when you asked to speak with me. Very rarely is one asked forgiveness from a king."

_Another reason this situation feels awkward._

"But," Irwin continued, eyes cold as he turned to look at me, "you are right in saying you have done me dishonor. Narnia has wronged my people once more, for though I was born and raised in Galma, I am, indeed, a Calormen in ancestry and blood." He was silent a moment. "We of the dark skin are not welcome in Narnia or Archenland. Even in the islands to the east, we are not easily accepted. My father and mother lived long days of a lonely existence in Galma before they were invited into the cities and castle. We are a lonely race—," with a sad gleam in his eyes, "—having been set apart ever since the days of old when our ancestors parted from their Narnian brothers and settled in the lands of the south.

"What you have done, you and your brother," Irwin went on, briefly touching the hilt of his sword, an action I did not miss, "is take for granted at a glance that I, because of my skin color and way of speech, was just the same as the lowest Calormene thief who murders for a bribe. I can only hope you do not continue down this path. Think how if you should sentence every foreign king to death for what my lord Gavin has done! Or every stable boy for what that scoundrel Reth had in mind."

I winced, for Irwin's words struck home. This hasty stereotyping had been my worst fault—besides my pride and being reckless, of course. At that thought, I flinched again. It is never easy to discover faults about oneself. Especially faults that have just caused about enough chaos in one or two weeks to practically give Narnia into the hands of a madman.

However, even as I berated myself inwardly for letting myself fall into such transgression, Irwin added with a wry smile, "However, in view of your humility and willingness to beg forgiveness, I will accept your apology and forget the wrongs you have done me and my people."

With those words, I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

_Forgiven. Thank Aslan. _

"My thanks to you, Lord Irwin," I said, bowing and smiling gratefully. "I deserve nothing but your enmity and spite, but you are gracious to forgive me for wronging you. Also…" I paused, trying to find the right words before I spoke, "…you see, Peter and I talked it over and well…now that Gavin is no longer king and your island is a Narnian province, Galma's desperately in need of a duke…"

-----

I stood alone in the Orchard for a while after Irwin had gone back to his apartments. The fresh Narnian breeze that blew gently past my face brought the smell of oranges, honey blossoms, and summer. I smiled, breathing it in deeply and then letting it out in a long, contented sigh.

Without warning, something hard hit me in the back of my head.

"Ow."

With a groan, I stumbled forward, grabbing a tree to steady myself.

"I say! Good shot, Fio! You could hear the thump from up here!"

I winced and turned, slowly, to face the rest of the orchard. A pair of dark, mocking eyes stared down at me from one tree and some of merry blue from another. I raised my hand to the back of my head and rubbed the sore spot tenderly.

"You _might_ have warned me," I groused, giving Fio an irritated glare.

She returned it with a cheerful, mischievous grin and faked innocence. "Why on _earth_? You'd think after being half-killed twice, a little apple wouldn't do you much harm."

Before I could think up a fitting retort, Corin, from his lookout position above, called out, "I say! Here comes Eric, Ed! And he's got that horrid girl-in-the-pink-dress with him!"

_Lady Claudia. _

Without a moment's delay I scooped up an apple and darted behind one of the broader trees.

"When they come in range, pummel the girl with apples."

Both Fio and Corin gave me a surprised look.

"What?"

"But won't it hurt her?" Fio asked, giving me a look that warned, 'Don't be hasty, Edmund'.

I shrugged.

"Don't aim for her head. And don't throw them hard. Just enough to make her leave. In fact, don't aim for her at all; just the ground around her. Aslan knows she's caused enough trouble for me to warrant a little revenge, playful or no."

They both shrugged and turned back. I didn't want to hurt Claudia, of course, but I certainly didn't want her hanging around the Orchard, possibly fawning over me as she'd done at the ball. Besides, her gaudy pink dress made my eyes ache.

"Ready…" Corin whispered from above, "…aim…"

With a loud, "FIRE!" a rain of apples fell from the tree, most of them hitting the ground around the walker's feet. Only one actually struck the poor Lady Claudia, and even then it was only _just_ enough to cause irritation. The girl screamed in a typical damsel-in-distress fashion and let go of Eric's arm, turning and running the other way. Eric's eyes darted around the Orchard in search of the fair lady's attackers, but it was with a broad grin that he watched her run.

"Many thanks, King Edmund," he said after I stepped out from behind a tree. "I couldn't have survived another giggle."

I laughed aloud and shook his hand, pulling him further into the Orchard. Corin and Fio slipped down from their trees and greeted him as well. After a few minutes of joking around about Claudia and apples, the mood turned a bit more serious.

"Are you really going with your father into exile?" Corin blurted out—exactly the question I'd been longing to ask, but hadn't had the bluntness to just come out with it.

Eric's eyes evaded mine, and he fiddled with his tunic nervously.

"He is my father. Where else would I go? I don't belong here—or in Galma anymore."

His tone was bitter, and my heart ached in hearing it.

"You are free to go where you will. You will always be welcome here. Lord Irwin will be given charge over Galma as duke within the week, and I'm certain he would say the same. Are you so close to your father that you would follow him into exile for the better part of your life?"

Eric grimaced and shrugged.

"Not really. Father was always too busy with matters of state to bother with me or Iliea. That's part of the reason she's such a terrible flirt now, not that he really cares anyway. Our mother died just a year ago, which got Father thinking about Iliea getting married and all that rot. But Father and I have never been close."

I nodded, and all four of us were silent for a while. At last, Fio sighed and began juggling three apples, half out of habit, I was certain.

"My father was the same way. He left me and my brother and Mum when I was only seven. We got news a year later that he'd been killed by pirates. Mum didn't last much longer than that, and my brother, who was several years older than I, left me with my uncle and went to sea. I haven't seen him since."

She said this in such a factual tone of voice that I would've have known—except for the glint of sorrow in her eyes and the memory of her mournful ballad—that she cared a straw about her family. When she met my gaze, I gave her a reassuring smile.

"I haven't seen my parents in ages. They aren't dead—at least," I paused, wincing as I remembered Dad and the picture of him in his uniform that stood on my bed-stand back at the Professor's house, "I don't think they are. But it's been near eight years since we came into Narnia. Even before that, my father left for…for a war that was going on in our world. I didn't think I'd ever see him again."

It was the first time I'd told anyone in Narnia my fears concerning Dad. It was strange that I'd never spoken about it—even to Peter, Susan, or Lucy. It had remained in the back of my mind for the longest time, something that had nothing to do with Narnia or being a king. But now, all this talk of parents and fathers had brought it to mind.

Everyone was silent for a while longer until Corin spoke up at last.

"My Mum—she always used to say to be thankful for what I had. I wish I had been thankful for her, back when she was alive." He raised a pair of pensive blue eyes to meet mine. "Even though she isn't alive on this earth, she still lives in my memory. I remember her smile, and the way she laughed…" he stopped abruptly and looked down.

Seconds later he was in my arms, head buried in my shoulder and his compact form shaking with sobs that had been held in for far too long.

_Peter used to hold me like this_, thought a vague corner of my mind. _So this is what it's like to have a younger brother._

That same, vague corner of my mind was the only part of me that registered the departure of Fio and Eric. I heard, as if through a haze, Fio say that she'd be back, and I nodded automatically. And then we were alone.

At first, I thought I should say something, perhaps try to console the prince from Archenland, but then decided against it. Corin seemed like a boy who cried once in a blue moon, and he'd jolly well better get it out of his system now. As he sobbed, holding onto me like he'd never let go, I was once more reminded of Lucy. How often had she buried her face in my shoulder and sobbed hysterically like Corin was now? I wondered if he'd cried when his mother died. I wouldn't have been a bit surprised to discover that he'd bottled up the emotion and focused instead on revenge and hatred for his mother's killer.

At last Corin's sobs grew less violent and then died away almost completely. He surreptitiously wiped his face with his sleeve, and then looked up to meet my compassionate gaze.

"Do you still think I'm a nuisance?"

My tongue ached with regret, and I longed to recall every hurtful word I'd let fly up until that point.

"I never thought you were a nuisance," I said quickly, knowing as I said it that it was the truth. "I was quite often irritated, yes, but not reluctant to be around you. You should know by now," I gave him a quick embrace to hide the tears that were gathering in my own eyes, "that brothers never mean anything they say when they're cross."

I actually had to look away from Corin's face in order to keep from losing it completely. The pain faded from his gleaming eyes of blue, and his smile was happiness in its purest form.

"Brothers," he whispered, probably not intending for me to hear him. "I…I…"

He couldn't continue. He just sat there, looking dazed with a huge, real smile on his face. Watching him, I couldn't help but smile, too, and then I had to laugh because it looked so ridiculous. The laughter, as usual, was infectious now that things were healed between us, and Corin soon joined in, his peals of happiness echoing through the Cair like joy itself.

Fio and Eric were not long in returning after that. I could tell by the look in the gypsy girl's eyes that she saw the difference in Corin's face. When Corin began telling Eric how he'd found my sister's cordial in the garden, Fio let out a great sigh and leaned back against one of the apple trees.

"You're surprisingly good at being an older brother, you know."

I raised an eyebrow, and then followed her gaze to the happily chatting Corin.

"Ah. Well, I have had a bit of practice, you know. Lucy was quite a handful herself, but Corin is another thing altogether."

"You've made him so happy," came her quiet voice, suddenly sober instead of joking, as it usually was. "Was it really so hard to be his friend, his brother?"

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, sitting on the grass a few feet away from her.

"A week ago, I would have answered 'yes'. But now…"

"Now?" Fio prompted.

I smiled mischievously, and juggled two apples carefully in mock preoccupation.

"Now, my dear lady minstrel, I would say that your plot worked well."

"My plot?" This with a bewildered look from Fio. "Have you gone mad, King Edmund?"

"Perhaps," I replied, smiling at my juggling apples. "Probably, even. I'm guessing everything that has taken place this summer—the poison; Corin, Iliea, and your family's visit; and the stable—that whole plot was part of your plot to make me adopt Corin as my brother. Am I right?"

It was sheer rubbish, of course. I had only been a little irritated to discover that she was right and I was wrong about Corin. But even as the words had formed in my head with mischievous delight growing in my mind, I wondered what her reaction to them would be.

Almost at once Fio saw the glitter of humor in my eyes. She narrowed hers and raised an eyebrow, as if to ask, "Is that the best you can come up with?" Then, moving so quickly that I hardly knew what had happened, she snatched one of the apples I was juggling from where it hung in the air and shook her head, as if in pity.

"Really, King Edmund. Where _did_ you learn to juggle?" This was in a loud voice, meant to be overheard by Eric and Corin, who turned and stared at us with curious smiles.

"This reminds me of a song," Fio said, tapping her finger on her chin and saying the words as if the idea had just occurred to her.

She picked up her lyre, which just happened be lying on the ground next to the tree, and began strumming a quick, carefree melody on its strings.

"I'll sing it through once, and then everybody must join in the second time," she ordered, giving me a wicked smile at which my heart sank in mock dismay.

As soon as Corin and Eric had taken their places next to us, Fio began her song in a sweet, lilting voice. Nevertheless, the actual words she was singing made me moan and put my head in my hands.

"Oh the King who could not juggle,

Was a fancy fool indeed.

For with juggling he did struggle

In his coat of crimson tweed!

Oh the King who could not juggle

Tried his best with two, then three

But oft, alas his futile struggle

Ended, sadly, futilely."

And it went on. She sang two more verses of the horrendous melody before at last the twanging of her strings played to a stop. I lifted my face and met her dark, wicked eyes, and she smiled.

"Well, King Edmund? What do you think?"

"I think," I said, rising and picking up an apple from the ground, "that it's going to be awfully quiet around here when you leave. Though I can't say I'll exactly miss it. Do you know I don't even have a coat of crimson tweed? I don't think such a thing even exists!"

Fio grinned even more widely, for she knew that my first words were full of bluster.

"It's a ballad, King Edmund," she replied to the latter part of my comment. "Anything can happen. Even crimson tweed."

And then she began strumming again, more quickly this time, and exclaimed, "Everybody!"

I could've escaped them, could've run out of the garden and found a quiet nook to read or think privately, but I didn't.

_This is where I belong. With my friends. The music itself isn't so bad_, I thought with a grin, turning back to join my friends._ Perhaps if I try not to be offended by the lyrics…_

When she saw me returning, Fio's smile became glad instead of just mischievous, and she played all the more exuberantly while Corin, Eric, and I sang along.

"Oh the King who could not juggle,

Was a fancy fool indeed!

With his juggling he did struggle

In his coat of crimson tweed!"

* * *

**_To be continued...(in one last chapter that should really be called an epilogue)....._**


	21. Epilogue

**A/N: What an adventure this has been! Edmund's almost died twice, Corin's had his share of adventure, and now Cair Paravel is safe from any madmen in the form of Galmian murderers. *whew* Unfortunately, though, now that it's all wrapped up, this means an end for our beloved tale of miscreants and murderers. **

**I would like to offer, once more, my most grateful and devoted thanks to all who read and reviewed this story. You are the oxygen in a vaccuum of toxic nothingness to a poor writer's lungs. ;) In other words, I'd never have gotten this far without you. And again, praise be to the Lion of Judah, the Author of Life and the one who gave me the inspiration for this story. May his terror and love bless all who read these words.**

**So, without further ado, I present 'The End'. **

* * *

_--Epilogue--_

The last morning of King Lune's visit I returned to the Apple Orchard one last time. Somehow I had a feeling that I wasn't alone in my reflections there, and I was right; for as soon, as I sat down under the big apple tree, a large apple, crimson as a cherry, landed on my head.

"Hello, Corin," I said without looking up as I rubbed my aching head.

The prince slid down from the tree and landed next to me on the grass. His merry eyes were clouded and troubled. I didn't have to ask what was wrong. But I did anyway.

"What's the matter with you this morning?"

Corin gave me a miserable look, and then looked away.

"Father said we can't stay any longer. We have to return to Anvard."

I shrugged, a sort of excitement filling my mind. Hadn't I spent the past few weeks longing for Corin—and everyone else—to be gone? Now I could finally take a nap in peace.

"What's the matter with going home?" I asked lightly, tousling his fair hair. "Don't you think you've caused enough chaos for one summer?"

Corin's blue eyes ached as they returned to my face, and I wondered that one who could speak only in jests one moment could be so melancholy the next.

"It'll be so _boring_ back home."

As he spoke, a note in his voice made me think of Cair Paravel in the very near future—tomorrow, even. I could hardly remember the time before Corin came to stay at the Cair. Indeed, I could hardly bear to think of how empty the Apple Orchard would seem without his laughing, merry, apple-throwing presence.

"It'll be boring here, too," I replied, suddenly just as melancholy as the prince.

We both waited in silence.

"Don't worry, Corin," I said after a moment. "You can always come back next summer."

I winced and leaned back against the tree, closing my eyes as I realized what I had just invited him to do. Did I really _want _another summer like this one?

But then I realized that, even though this summer had not been quite as relaxing as I might have wished it to be, I wouldn't have changed anything about it for the world. I had put my detective powers to the test, discovered a murderer, saved my siblings' lives, learned to juggle, and–most importantly—made a friend—and brother—in Corin. After further thought, I finally understood that this summer would not be one to regret, but one that would always echo through my memory as a distant dream of joy.

An apple hit me in the side. I smiled quite suddenly and opened my eyes. Corin stood beyond the tree, arm raised to throw another ripe fruit.

"You can nap all you want when I'm gone," he said, smiling in fun.

"I wasn't napping," I told him. "Not yet. And probably not for the rest of the summer, either, thanks to you."

"Come on, then," he said, bright blue eyes sparkling like Lucy's beloved Eastern Sea. "Are you ready, Ed?"

I sighed, tossed my apple up in the air and then caught it with a flourish.

_Miscreants and murderers…what next? Another malicious monarch? A malevolent monster? On the scarier side, perhaps me as a mentor for this mischievous miscreant? _

I shuddered.

"After a summer with you, Corin, I'd be ready for anything."

* * *

Peter was accompanying Susan and Lucy on a walk through the orchards that afternoon when all three heard a strange noise. Lucy heard it first. Of course. It sounded like a battle…though perhaps not one fought with swords and spears.

They rounded a corner and were met with a very strange sight indeed.

"Is that what I think it is?" Peter asked, staring as if he'd never seen anything to match the sight before his eyes.

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking, than I think it is," Susan quipped, looking just as astounded as her brother.

Lucy sighed and rolled her eyes, picking up an apple and giving her brother and sister an impish grin.

"Well come on. We might as well go and join them!"

None of them got any rest that afternoon, but strangely enough, they were all having too much fun to care.

* * *

_finis_


End file.
